A Christmouse Miracle

A CHRISTMOUSE MIRACLE

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except for a mouse. Hmm...but our story starts before this, actually a few days before Christmas.

***

Zigfried blew his breath on the frosty window of the vacant farmhouse and rubbed it with his red mitten to make a peephole. Maybe today he thought hopefully. It was only a few days before Christmas and he was watching for a Miracle.

This house needed a family. It had been empty too long.

Zigfried’s tummy growled. “I’ve been empty too long,” he muttered. Jamming his earmuffs on and tossing his scarf over his shoulder, he jumped from the windowsill and grabbed a sack from his home in the bottom of the wood-stove.  He scurried next door to Farmer Mike’s.

Farmer Mike’s Farm had been a haven until the farmer decided he had to take a wife who had to take a cat. Zigfried shuddered. He knew how that song went. He and his buddies used to sit around a campfire late at night down in old Tomcat Hollow and tell cat stories until their little whiskers quivered.

Zigfried looked around casually as he slipped into the barn and whistled nervously as he filled his sack with oats. If he was caught, the wife and her carving knife could be trouble, but he wasn’t worried about Nuisance. That cat was one sardine short of a full can. He smiled smugly. He could out run that bag of fleas any day—on two feet. He was turning to leave when hot breath and a long black whisker tickled his ear.

 Zigfried’s heart beat wildly.

“Merry Christmas Mouse--will you be joining me for Christmas dinner? Do say yes.” hissed the cat with a lick of her chops.

“Now N-Nuisance,” Zigfried stammered and laughed nervously. He could outrun her, but he had to get out of the corner first. He sucked his stomach in, “You don’t want me. I haven’t been eating too well lately.

 Zigfried quickly reached up and yanked hard on Nuisance’ whiskers. While the cat howled he ran under her stomach, grabbed her tail and kept running--in circles. It worked, Nuisance gave chase to her own tail with Zigfried hanging on and staying just out of reach.

After a few rounds Zigfried let go and kept running. He looked back to see the cat still chasing her tail. Zigfried grinned to himself and ran-SMACK-right into the wall. He shook his head, adjusted his earmuffs and scurried away.

The next afternoon Zigfried stood on his windowsill in the vacant house. He munched happily on a pawful of oats as he thought about the news he had just heard. A new family would be moving into the farmhouse soon. His granny would arrive late Christmas Eve to celebrate with him. He hoped that the new family would come before then---the house would be warmer, and Christmas was so much more enjoyable when you could pilfer through someone’s cupboards for your Christmas feast, rather than be hunted while gathering it. He was bellowing his way through “No Place Like Home for the Holidays,” when he heard a low rumble.

Zigfried jumped for joy and wriggled a jig. A big moving van was coming up the driveway. When two laughing children tumbled from the van, Zigfried was beside himself. Children….peanut butter sandwiches…..cheese and crackers, Zigfried’s whiskers trembled and he drooled just thinking about the crumbly possibilities.

Zigfried’s Christmas Miracle had arrived.

The old house came alive the next few days. Zigfried awoke early with the tea kettle singing cheerily on the wood stove. It ended late with the upstairs door swinging softly closed. The lady of the house shopped and filled her cupboards and baked and filled her pantry. At night while the family slept—Zigfried bagged and filled his cupboards. He looked and looked for red gumdrops, but none were to be found—they were his granny’s favorite.

***

The day before Christmas Zigfried smiled as he leaned against the door to his home, sipping hot chocolate. The children were laughing and talking about what they might get for Christmas.

Skates? A toboggan? A cat?

The smile fell from Zigfried’s face as he leaned closer; he heard the mother say, ‘No, you are not getting a cat’. Zigfried sagged with relief.

“But, the mother continued, ‘Uncle Mike is coming over this morning. He has asked us to take care of his cat. His Mother-in law is coming for Christmas and she is allergic to cats. I said we would be happy to-- it is a small thing to do when he has done so much for us.”

Stunned, Zigfried spewed hot chocolate through his nose---his mouth fell wide open. His whiskers bristled, and when he found his voice, it came out in an indignant squeak.  "HEY!! WHOSE CHRISTMAS MIRACLE IS THIS? 

With Nuisance here there would be no ‘Silent Night’ or ‘Peace on Earth’ this Christmas.

Nuisance arrived soon after and her basket was placed next to the stove…..only inches from Zigfried’s door. The two animals spent the day dodging each other---Zigfried dodging Nuisance’ paws---and Nuisance dodging the snapping clothespin Zigfried carried under his arm to defend himself. As he dodged, Zigfried paced and planned. Granny would arrive in a few hours. He worried Nuisance would be the first to greet her.

At ten o’clock Nuisance was put out to do her night business. Zigfried crept from his hole and quickly dropped bits of his precious Christmas feast through the house and up the stairs.

 When Nuisance returned, Zigfried watched with satisfaction as the cat took the bait. When the woman went to bed and closed the door to the stairs it was so softly that Zigfried didn’t even hear it.

He added the last few touches to his own Christmas tree and put mulled cider on to warm, he pulled Granny's rocking chair close to the tiny Christmas tree and laid her favorite blanket over it. Sighing with contentment he wandered to his favorite spot on the windowsill of the living room to wait.

 It was a clear night with a full moon. The bright silver stars blinked sleepily in the blue velvet sky. Inside, the Christmas tree was decorated with many colored lights.  He peered close to see if anyone could tell where he had been nibbling on the garlands of popcorn and cranberries. Shiny glass ornaments and long silver strands of icicles caught the light, sparkling and dancing with the promise of good things to come. A glass of milk and a plate of sugar cookies and carrots sat on a small table beside the armchair. Zigfried loved sugar cookies. His whiskers trembled but he didn't touch them. He thought those must be for someone special.

He turned his attention to the outside view again, cleared his throat and began to recite in a clear strong voice… “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house….

Whack! A huge black paw came down on top of Zigfried.

“Not a creature was stirring, especially the mouse,” Said Nuisance as she let out a wicked hiss.

Zigfried pulled--he panicked--he prayed. Surely he wouldn't have to beg. As he struggled to get out from under Nuisance’ paw, he tried to negotiate, "C’mon Nuisance, don’t you feel any Christmas spirit?"

‘Yes’, said Nuisance as she licked her whiskers and held Zigfried firmly with both front paws. ‘What do they call it when you look forward to something—oh, yes, now I remember-- anticipation?  She laughed her wicked laugh again.

Suddenly there was a whoosh and a thud. Both animals were so surprised they tumbled from the windowsill and just stared.  A round shadowy figure crawled from the fireplace. They had heard the stories, but had never been sure they were true.

The figure piled gifts under the tree and filled stockings until they bulged. He sighed and sank heavily into the armchair. He’d had two cookies and was reaching for the third, but patting his belly, he changed his mind. He stood and put the carrots in his pocket.

The animals gulped as the figure came to where they flattened themselves against the wall. He gave Zigfried a beautiful red wagon filled with gifts for him and his Granny. Zigfried noticed right away there were red gumdrops.

‘Merry Christmas, little Zigfried,’ said the figure. With a twinkle in his eye, he scooped up a very quiet Nuisance.   "I’ll see that the door is latched tightly this time.” With a nod and a wink, he laughed a jolly laugh and was gone.

As Zigfried went to greet his granny, he hummed ‘Silent Night’ and nibbled on the last sugar cookie.  As he pulled his shiny new wagon behind him, he wondered briefly what Nuisance would get for Christmas.

THE END

Zigfried’s Sugar Cookies

#1

1 cup butter

1 cup vegetable oil

1 cup icing sugar

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

#2

4 cups and two tablespoons of flour

1 teaspoon of baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon nutmeg

METHOD: Mix all ingredients in list number one until creamy---sift together all ingredients from list two. Gradually stir sifted ingredients into the first mixture. Refrigerate for 15-20 minutes. Then roll into small balls, roll in white sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes—with oven rack one level above the center. When cool, add a small amount of white icing and top with a red gumdrop.  Or decorate with red and green sprinkles.

Waiting and Trusting.

Jeremiah 29:11

 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

So I sit here with a head and heart full of questions---as some of you know 2012 was a year of awakening for me. I questioned choices from my past—I had so many dreams—and did not realize them— because I did not trust that the desires in my heart were from God—I was so scared of making the wrong choice—I just let things slip away. Some days I still struggle to forgive myself of past indecision and I am determined to make stronger choices when I see an opportunity.

When I was given the opportunity to go to Germany/England last fall—I crazily jumped at the chance and got to meet some very special people. It was nice to see a little of Germany and a little more of England—but it was truly about the people. For me, a lifelong dream fulfilled---I’m still smiling.

As the trip unfolded  I spoke to our hosts about how I would love to live and work in the UK for a time. Because my Mother was born in Scotland, I was encouraged to apply for permission based on her ancestry. 

 My first application was lovingly funded by two of my oldest and dearest friends—who believe in me—and want God’s best for me. The first application was denied unfortunately—wrong application. As I stood there looking at the denied application, I felt my plans and dreams falling all around me.

I was diagnosed with very low hemoglobin two days late. It is quite possibly just a severe iron deficiency. I have been given two blood transfusions and a few tests to rule out anything more sinister. I am being monitored closely and was pleased my hemoglobin was up by several points in one week.

My cousin Carol  kindly pointed out that maybe this is why I am being delayed. Not denied by God, not forgotten by God….just delayed. I was encouraged—and sold my van to pay down a few bills—and apply again.

There are two more tests they want to do to be certain before I can have a clean bill of health. Really I am mostly concerned about how these tests, waiting for them and the results, might mess up my plans and dreams. I also found out this morning that the payment and probably my application have been processed. My anxiety increases.

So tonight I sit waiting and I think--is it possible that when I finally have the courage to follow my dream—that I won’t be able to go?

I was distracting myself on the computer an hour ago and up pops a friend to chat and ask, why am I still up at this hour?  I could not tell you the countless times God has brought us to each other’s hearts and minds—compelling  us to call or write each other—just to find out the other person is in need of prayer and encouragement. God did just that for me through this friend—Last week and again tonight. 

I am no closer to knowing what the test results will be—or whether I will be granted by the UK…and God, permission to go and follow my dream---but I know who holds my heart—and who holds the future—whether it is in North America or the UK. I know I am loved and cherished by God—and that is enough to sleep on tonight.

Shhhhhh...Mother Holle is Sleeping

Winter was relentless this year. Several weeks ago I read an email from a young friend who said in her part of the world Mother Holle was still shaking her pillow. Puzzled, I googled the name. I found a fairy tale about a character, Mother  Holle, who when having her feather pillow shaken in her world, it would snow in our world. I enjoyed the story and smiled ruefully as I watched big fat wet snowflakes fall from the sky outside my kitchen window.

About a week later I was walking into my sister’s house and stopped to tilt my head and listen to the  bird chatter, and a few hours later when I left her house I was delighted to hear the little Peeper frogs singing their night-song from the pond below her home. Spring was awakening.

When I got up the next morning I looked at the tall birch trees outside my bedroom window to see if I could spot the beginning of leaves yet. From then on I checked every morning. I smiled to myself a few days later as I was descending the stairs. It had rained a tiny bit the night before—just enough to coax the buds out on the trees.

Over the next few days the lawns and meadows slowly turned lush green. Sweet grass and damp earth filled the air with the scent of new life as bouquets of bluettes covered the lawn with their lacy blossoms. Dandelions burst forth dotting the fields with their cheerful objectionable abundance.A little friend and I checked often to see if the daffodils had poked their sunlit heads through their glossy leaves. 

The tall birch trees in the yard are now clothed in their green splendor. Soon the apple and pear trees will fill the air with the grace and fragrance of their blossoms.You can hear the low rumble of lawn mowers in the distance and the heady scent of fresh cut grass fills my senses.

I want to climb to the top of the birch tree,(picture that if you will), and shout my joy to the world; but I won't. Number one--I am scared of heights. Number two?? Listen carefully. Hear that? Mother Holle is snoring softly.

Shhhhh…….

She has FINALLY laid her troublesome head on those pillows and I wish her to sleep soundly for a good long time. 

Link to Mother Holle:

http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/diamondstoads/stories/holle.html

Happy Mothers' Day....Missing you!

MOTHER

God gave so much

When He blessed me with a Mother

Whose ever open arms welcome...release

Warm soft cheek, salt and pepper hair

Gentle smile...loving heart

Breath and breast

Rising, rhythmic, reassuring

Ever maternal

Weary with satisfaction, her household clothed

She is contentment, ever changing

Her heart to mine

Sharing and caring

Our relationship bearing

Dreams and disappointments

I write this with much love

And eternal thanks

For my Mother, My friend

---With Love, Always-- Dianne (1994)

Proverbs 31:26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness

Happy Mother's Day....A Constant Life

One of my earliest memories is of being in the living room pretending to fly as I jumped from the furniture. I am probably younger than four. I can hear Mom in the kitchen singing as she does the laundry. I can smell the laundry soap and bleach and hear the rhythm of the old washing machine beating the laundry clean. (I can smell molasses cookies baking too, but when I told Mom about this memory years ago she said it would not have been the same day).

This is the strongest memory of my Mom? Surely I loved my mother for more than doing laundry and making cookies? Then I realized--whether she was doing laundry, baking cookies, finding a jam jar for the hundredth bouquet of limp dandelions, or holding the bucket while I was sick—she was a constant presence. It is her presence that is the memory.

When she died it was painful. Who do you turn to when the one you have always turned to is gone? In the first few months I would reach for the phone to ask or tell her something. When I drove home on the weekend and walked through the door—my heart would strain to hear her footsteps in the kitchen or her voice calling out hello. I missed the warmth of her touch.

When people came to visit and offer sympathy to the family---everyone said the same things about her-- whether they knew her as Sister, Aunt, Friend, Neighbor, Jean, Jean-the-bean, or Mrs Ness. They spoke of her kindness and patience, her gentle spirit and laughed about that little bit of mischief in her. Even Dad as her husband and we as her children and grandchildren knew her the same way. All of these relationships were very different, but her character was obvious and constant throughout. What a blessing that was to me.

It has been twelve years since Mom died. After the grief lifted I realized she is still with me, just differently. She is here in the memory of her love. She is here in the example of her faith in God.  She is here in the stories and smiles of family and friends. As her life was constant, so is her memory.

Joy---My Cup Runneth Over

Almost Apple Blossom time again---this is my most Joyful memory--and this is what fills my heart and mind from my childhood.....

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

--C.S Lewis

My Cup Runneth Over

When I was a child I can remember my mother getting us ready for bed and telling us it was time to climb the wooden hill. Mom tucked us in and as soon as I heard her feet going down the wooden hill, I would slip out of bed and go and kneel at the low bedroom window that looked out over our small farm. The wood-house stood to the left. The lawn and field beyond the fence were thick with new grass and dotted with flowers. I could hear the frogs in the nearby pond singing their night song, and the soft trilling of the birds. There was an apple tree that stood outside the window and when it was in bloom it was frothy with pink blossoms. The evening breeze would whisper through it and carry its’ fragrance to where my head rested on my arms. I would have this overwhelming fullness—from the tips of my toes--right up to my heart--then on to the top of my head--an aching sweetness that stung my eyes and gave me a pang of longing, because no matter how long I looked, listened or smelled--I could never get enough of that moment.

....AND I DANCE

… AND I DANCE

As a child,

I danced, I laughed, I loved,

A darkness came

A choice was given---- and taken,

By someone who said they loved me

Paralyzed by fear and shame

My young heart ached,

 If only I could destroy the darkness…

If only I could rip down and tear apart,

 the shame and rage,

 That holds my heart in so tight a grip,

My every breath and love --is measured

‘Dear God,’ I cried...

‘Forgive--my child’

A choice is given---and taken

I lift my heart to the mercy of God,

I forgive

Ever so gently..so sweetly

I am enfolded in the arms and heart of God

 And in the light of His love

The shame and  fear is damned

The darkness falls and dies forever

Once again,

I love, I sing with Joy

…and I dance

--Dianne Annie Ness

I wrote the poem to share my journey from the fear and sadness of  sexual abuse to the great love and redemption of God through the joy of forgiveness. Please do not be sad for me--rejoice with me that the God of love can redeem our hearts and lives and make us whole when we have been hurt. God has given me more through this journey of forgiveness than was ever taken from me.

 I want to send a message of hope to those who have been hurt—there is healing and wholeness.

( The man who hurt me is deceased—he was a trusted adult who frequented our home. I will not drag his name into this as he cannot hurt anyone else, I also do not want to bring shame to his name or family and with God’s love and grace I have forgiven him.  Please feel free to share--as it may encourage someone else).