Thursday, February 21, 2013

WOOHOO-Baby!!!


Sunday, January 20, 2013 at 11:13pm
Copley, OH

We learned today that a new portal to eternity was recently created! We will meet this new addition to the universe in September because . . . my baby (Christen) is having a baby . . . wow. Not unique by any stretch of the imagination, but the wonderful announcement is unique and untried from this aging right hand.

The Joy in my heart burst like fireworks upon learning such blessed news. It took a few moments for me to decipher the signs mixed in with some papers I was asked to look over.  (You ssnnneeaky kids!)  I was trying to  decoding the license plate "AKA-GMA" thinking it was someone's new educational designations--- turns out they were my new designations!  This education took 53 years, undergrad degree was in husband-ry for 30 years and a 
Masters in growing-up 3 daughters!  Finally, I'm being accredited with my GMA! What wonderful and exhilarating news.  


We feel like & talk like it is going to be a boy, but in 8 months (7 now) we will either say, "I knew it!" Or "I'll be a monkey's uncle!" Either way, it will be glorious.

There is now---One more to pray for, one more to trust my Savior to, one more reason to lift my voice and have thanks and praise pass over my lips.  One more reason to acknowledge "Allswell" in this painful world. One more yearly celebration and gifts to buy.  One more to scoop up in my arms.  One more cheek to kiss in staccato.  One more to teach "This Little Light of Mine", "Jesus Loves Me" and John 3:16 too!  One more wee pair of Nike's to buy and "Jonny-jump-up" to set up. One more to read too in my silly voices and teach the only Italian song I know "Con Gesu, si amo ...", One more to love, to hope and dream for.  One more to be reunited with in heaven.  One more personality to capture a moment from the past ----and transport it to the here and now.  One more opportunity to glimpse a recognizable twinkle, smile or mischief from days gone bye.  One more, of several more--Lord willing, to steal and never return to me--- my heart.

Charlene DiFonzo Holmes, GMA











Saturday, February 9, 2013

Transitions





Transitions
2013.02.01                                                                                                             Charlene DiFonzo Holmes
Late this morning I met with a my friend, Rhonda, whose home is as charming, warm and inviting as she is. It’s southern appeal and large front porch made it appear as though it was plucked right out of northern Virginia and plopped right into Ohio. My friend kindly agreed to look over some of my writings to give some critique and direction. She did just that with kindness and intelligence. She gave me several suggestions one of which was the need to be careful with my transitions, that sometimes I can be hard to follow. I need to consider the reader with the information I am giving them. Will the reader be able to clearly follow me to the destination I am taking them? Finally as we were wrapping up she reiterated, "transitions are difficult."

Well, that was a mouthful . . . aren't they though? Whether referring to putting pen to paper or the daily vicissitudes of life, transitions are difficult. Even good transitions are at best disruptive.
From big transitions that are drawn-out, such as moving to a new home, getting married or having a baby, to momentary transition that take a few hours, minutes or moments, such as reorganizing my closet, driving a different car or putting on my flannel sheets -- all call for different levels of internal accommodations. For myself, even moving my flatware to a different drawer is tough--how many times will I reach for the old drawer before I remember it's new location.



My life, I’ve concluded, is one continuous transition. Each day brings something new. If only I were to consider the day itself . . . I am dealing with a new day. I am one day older. Is the rain transitioning to snow? Is it morning or has it transitioned into evening? Did I wake with a new ache or pain and transition into accommodating that irritation for the remainder of the day? Did I discover we are out of milk after I filled my bowl with my favorite cereal and now I need to transition my thoughts from Cheerios to toast?

I've deduced that the better I handle transition the less frustration I experience in life. Unfortunately I fight transition tooth and nail. I hate it because it makes me think and thinking takes energy. I love doing tasks by rote; in fact I love doing life by rote. I don't have to think, I just do it mechanically. I can move through my day absentmindedly, throwing in a load of wash, packing the dishwasher, driving into town and even walk through my home in the dark without incidence----unless of course, I’ve rearrange the furniture, then I’m doomed.

Schlepping through my day mindlessly and through my life regularly fighting transition reminds me of the Israelites. They fought change from the moment they left Egypt through the 40 years wandering the dessert. God called them a ‘stiff-necked’ people because they fought Him at every turn. Like me, they enjoyed the security of knowing what their day held, even if it was miserable. It is comforting to know when my food is coming, where it is coming from and what it is. There is stability in finding water for the day’s need in the same place every day. But in the wilderness? Life was unsure, unsafe and undefined. The reality of my life is also unsure; control is a myth of titanic proportions that I buy into regularly.

But, God is not a God of rote, or being mechanical or mindless. With each day and each moment, transition awaits me and my perception of its goodness or badness determines whether or not I embrace it or fight it. By missing even the smallest transition, I can easily miss what God has called me to on this day. I may miss the “divine appointments” or the “coincidences” from the One who creates them. My preoccupation with life’s modified agendas predisposes me to miss the joys in the details of life, poignantly placed by the most magnificent and extravagant of detailers--the Creator.

Accepting transition, even embracing it means I must let go. It means sitting in a wagon being pulled by a half dozen wild horses without reins--without the resources to control them and go where they take me. It means SURRENDER. Accepting and embracing transitions is allowing my will to be molded to His will so I am free to see what is around me, who is around me, the nuances of those I love. It moves me into position that allows me to notice a new beauty that surrounds me, like soft falling snow, because I’m not preoccupied with bucking the transition. I might notice the not-so-obvious needs that are in front of me, like a child with tears behind their eyes. It means “letting go”, and refocusing my eyes so I may see life in all of its glorious dimensions. It means I must resist living by rote and thoughtfully embrace my transitions so from moment to moment, day to day, year to year and ultimately from gravity to glory, I can clearly follow the Lord to the destination He is taking me. 




Friday, December 21, 2012

Christmas 2012


ALLSWELL
Christ IS come
2012.12.18                                                                                     Charlene DiFonzo Holmes

Back-in-the-day, before eight track players, during the Christmas season-- my oldest brother, Tom, would put up a small Christmas tree with multi-color lights in our rec room. In the corner of the narrow and dim paneled room was a turntable where he would have Christmas albums. In the opposite corner was his “Bob Cratchit” desk, tiny, one drawer and three open shelves along the right side. It was here that he labored over his college courses, hour after long hour under the only bright light in the room. My brother, Don, who also studied in the rec room took a different approach. He stretched out on the couch, his favorite position was generally on his back using his nose as a book mark . . . 
Tom graduated.  😁😉
(lol, for the record, all my brothers are successful)

On the occasions when there wasn’t all that studying going on, I’d make my way down the 10 steps to be alone and listen to the holiday music-- Perry Como singing soulfully, Ave Maria in Latin, Faith of our Fathers and The Little Drummer Boy. I would lay on the “study” couch, staring at the wee tree propped up on a table and just feel-- It opened me to the rest of my soul. I was visiting a part of me that didn’t make many appearances during the course of the other 11 months. Thirty-eight years later the music of Christmas continues to move me to a deeper place.

Recently I was told about a unique chap, a modern day Jeremiah Johnson (mountain man), living in a cabin in the mountains out west. This new Dad played midwife on the floor of their cabin and delivered his bundle of 8+ pounds of joy, a son. The birth was not without its moments of concern. Afterward, Dad stepped out of the cabin to reflect and with a heart heavy with gratitude he settled on his name . . . Allswell (as in- “All is well”).

I was struck by the profoundness of that part of his name. I found it to be so moving. A baby came into this world and to his Daddy it meant: In this moment, all’s well in the world or in my life because he is healthy. It could be, in that moment-- the profound miracle of a birth, enveloped by the experience of using his own hands to assist in birthing his flesh into the world, would move most of us to say in our hearts, All IS Well. I really haven’t a clue as to the Dad’s exacts thoughts, but this fresh and untried Dad had reasoned in an enlightened direction . . .

A few days later, my family and I were decorating our tree. As we were strategically placing the ornaments, Christmas music was playing and I heard Michael W. Smith’s:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-LEVmxL5Y8 

All is well, all is well;
Angels and men rejoice. For tonight darkness fell; Into the dawn of LOVES Light
Sing A-le, Sing Alleluia
All is well, all is well;
Let there be peace on earth. Christ is come, go and tell; That He is in the manger
Sing A-le, Sing Alleluia
All is well, All is well;
Lift up your voice and sing. Born is now Emmanuel; Born is our Lord and Savior
Sing Alleluia, Sing Alleluia

Those lyrics caused tears to spring up. Remembering baby Allswell, the message of the lyrics moved my spirit. I was being reminded that in spite of what is happening, that beyond our three dimensional vision, lies the reality-- all IS well.  At the sound of the melody and the angelic voices, something ethereal called to me. Like a river passing through me, connections began to push there way into my mind . . .

When God’s “Allswell” was born, He too was birthed in an unconventional way for His time. On the floor of a stone barn.

When God’s “Allswell” was born, He too was most likely birthed with the assistance of His earthly Dad.

When God’s “Allswell” was born, Friends and family didn’t show up to welcome him, but a small group of stunned, disheveled and smelly shepherds came to worship.

When God’s “Allswell” was born, His arrival wasn’t acknowledged by the surrounding beauty of nature, but by a flying Host of Angels, splitting open the night sky with the blazing light of a static bolt of lightning.

When God’s “Allswell” was born, He didn’t just bring light into the hearts of His Mom and Dad but as Max Lucado said, “Since He could bare your sins more easily than He could bare the thought of your hopelessness, He chose to leave; and He chose to bring light into YOUR world.

All’s well. If it is, why do I feel so sad? “Why so downcast, Oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me”. Why am I filled with this melancholy? My eyes fill with tears. The music moves my spirit but my soul reminds me of all that is NOT well. There are days, like today, when I feel the pain of this journey.  My knowledge of wounds, illnesses, difficulties experienced in the past, those that are current and the future possibilities should keep me under my covers and sear my heart . . . but it doesn’t. My spirit knows the hope that supersedes the sorrows of the soul, the sorrow of this earthly journey and the wounds that distort our views, whether they are perpetrated upon us or self inflicted by poor life decisions. My Savior is come-- all IS well. He came and “…darkness fell into the dawn of Love’s Light” (what beautiful insightful lyrics!)

I rejoice today-- for my goal is not the things of this world we scrape and claw to possess, but it’s to allow my heart to be drawn nearer to the Designer and Creator of us all. I want to stand on a roof top and shout, “All's well, this world is fading but the next one is brighter and will never fade. In that place we won’t shed tears or be filled with angst or anger for those who are gone, or suffering, or experience the frustration of being helpless at the injustices of this journey. All Is Well!”

At baby Allswell’s conception, our’s too, a portal of eternity was created, and his birth name was a reminder of that immortality. All IS well--we are eternal beings and when God’s Son put on human skin, becoming Emmanuel, and was birthed in an animal cave, instantly All became well. Darkness fell when the “...dawn of Lights Love...” rose over the horizon of sin’s darkest shadows.

Sometimes, it is easy to say. Most times, it is hard to believe . . . But the reality?

All IS Well!
Christ IS come
How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger
who announces the good news, All is well.”
He brings the good news,
announces salvation,
and tells Zion that its God rules as king.
 Isaiah 52:7


Wishing you a blessed Christmas and a New Year filled with joy and peace.

the HOLMES