Merry Christmas!

Wow, can it be? Another year has come and gone? This morning, as we celebrated Jesus' birthday, I began thinking of some Christmases past...

When my sister and I were little girls, we would wait eagerly for Santa to arrive and fill our stockings, which were truly hung by a fireplace. (Now since we don't have a fireplace, we hang them by the heater vent). In the middle of the night when we were sure Santa had arrived, we would leap out of our beds and head down the hall to the living room. There, we would find stockings full of fun items. We'd turn the light on very low (yep, we even had dimmer switches back then!) and empty out the homemade stockings. Carefully, we would scope out the goods then return them to our stockings all before midnight. We'd then hang up the stockings and head back to bed. Looking back, I recall that my parents always stayed up very late on Christmas Eve and were always whispering among the sounds of rattling paper and the tears of scotch tape.

Since I've never been one who loves surprises, I became adept at a young age at unwrapping my gifts and rewrapping them, all without anyone ever being the wiser. Big mistake when I told my husband that right after we'd gotten married. More on that later...

Fast forward to mine and Lon's first Christmas together after we'd only been married for a short five months. We were very young and very poor (I had a temporary job and Lon was unemployed at the time) and we lived in a shabby single-wide green and white trailer with a large dent in the front of it from where a tree fell on it. Not only that, but it was right next to a busy highway. I remember the first time Lon showed me the trailer with such enthusiasm after we'd first become engaged. We braved the tall weeds and the barbed wire fence to catch a glimpse inside the dented window of our "new home." Later, we would discover that although the rent was free, this home was far from perfect. After finding mouse poop in the kitchen drawers and finding out we had no heat (it was never more than 30 degrees inside the trailer that first winter), I quickly realized it wasn't our dream home. Not only that, but after my mom and I planted a tree and flowers and put up a split rail fence in the front yard, a herd of cows came in and knocked over the fence, ate the tree, and pooped right outside our front door. Ah well...such humble beginnings. Thank the Lord we were healthy and in love.

The trailerhouse had three bedrooms and two of them were storage rooms for the accumulation of "stuff" Lon and I had both brought to the marriage. (Did I mention that Lon and I both have packrat tendencies, which I like to refer to as being "sentimental"?)

One day about a week before Christmas, I went in the room with the orange carpet (did I mention this was a trailer from the 1970s?) in search of something I thought I'd lost. Lo and behold, I was so excited when I came across a brand new pizza cutter during my search. I was so thrilled that I could barely wait to share the good news with Lon. He was not amused when I showed him what I'd found. "Wow, I can't believe I found this in the drawer of that little old dresser. And to think we've needed a pizza cutter. Wow!" Lon took one look at me and reached for the pizza cutter. "That was your Christmas gift," he said sternly. "I hid it in that room so you wouldn't find it." After that day, he became wiser and either wrapped my gifts or hid them at a different location until Christmas. My grandpa was a police officer in San Diego and an investigator, so I guess being a detective is in my blood.

Fast forward again to a few years later and two homes later. This time, we had graduated to a home we'd helped to build - a home that had heat and no dents except for the one in the garage when a trailer got loose from the truck, BUT that's a story for a different time. By now, we were less young, less poor, and more gainfully employed. Lon had heard of how I'd opened my presents when I was little and then rewrapped them due to a confession I'd made during a weak moment. As such, he'd decided the only way to keep me from doing that with the Christmas gifts he bought me was to wrap them with duct tape. Not scotch tape like most folks, not even masking tape or packing tape, but duct tape. Talk about a challenge to get open and rewrap! (but I managed). However, that year, more of his gifts to me were surprises than ever before.

The next year, Lon decided to purchase me a toolbox with my own tools. It was very organized and included a hammer, nails, screws, picture hangers, a glue gun, and a bunch of other things but I don't know what they were. How I wished I was handier with the hammer, drill, and hot glue gun, but I'm not. When I was in Woods class in high school, I hated it. I made a bench for my parents (which they improved on quite a bit) and which I have threatened them if they get rid of because it's the only thing I'll ever make of wood. I'm just not gifted with construction tools, even though I wish I was like the rest of my family who can build or fix anything. So Lon thought he'd be a "sweetheart" and buy me my own toolbox so I could hang my own pictures, make my own repairs, and build my own little knick knacks. I tried to act excited when I opened the square gift covered in duct tape. I was envisioning a beautiful sweater, new coat, or even a new pair of shoes (can you tell I like clothes?) But no. It was a red toolbox. Needless to say, it was the thought that counted and the episode allowed me to retell it for a large audience on the pages of Woman's World magazine. Still...what was he thinking?

Lon made up for it when he bought me the entertainment center I'd always wanted to house his numerous electronic equipment and gadgetry. He had the deliverymen hide it in the neighbor's garage, then before we even woke in the morning, he had it all put together in the living room. He's definately made up for the toolbox.

When our girls came along, it was exciting to make up our own traditions - Candlight service at my parents' church on Christmas Eve after dinner with them; Christmas caroling at nursing homes; a homemade birthday cake for Jesus (did I mention that there's a disagreement in our house over whether Jesus would rather have chocolate or pumpkin cake?), and of course, our yearly tradition of chips with spray cheese for Christmas dinner.

Our daughters have also made up their own tradition to give each other a "gag" gift each year. Last year, Sunshine, our oldest daughter, gave Doodle an empty milk jug. It was wrapped so elegantly in the prettiest wrap Sunshine could find and Doodle was so excited to open it. The picture that captured her facial expression when she unwrapped the gift is truly a "Kodak moment." Likewise, Doodle had given Sunshine an old moldy avocado seed since Sunshine detests avocados. With her exaggerated gag reflex in place, Sunshine let every Zeller know her true feelings about her gag gift.

Our daughters are also engaged in many service projects for the less fortunate. I encourage you to enlist your family in doing something worthwhile for God's Kingdom this Christmas season. For some ideas, you can check out my book "77 Ways Your Family Can Make a Difference." The ideas inside this book are great for any day of the year and truly help families embrace Jesus' mandate that we love our neighbor.

Above all, through all the years of Christmases, whether when I was a little girl or now as an adult, one thing remains the most important to me about this time of year. The real reason for the season - Jesus. In all the other festivities of the season, we sometimes forget what it's really all about. In the midst of Santa, snowmen, presents, and mistletoe, the most important One gets left out. It still amazes me that Jesus would come to earth as a baby and choose to live in this fallen world - for us. He didn't have to, but He did. Mary held her baby and looked into the eyes of the One who would give His very life only three decades later for all humanity. I can't imagine what she must have thought as she did so.

It's mindboggling when I think about Jesus' sacrifice. He's been through everything we go through each day and understands. What a wonderful God we serve! Let's take time today - and everyday - not just on Christmas - to thank Him for what He did for us. Let's thank Him for giving us the hope as each day passes that our futures are secure in Him. Let's make sure our trust is in Him and in Him alone and that someday we can spend eternal life with the One who came to earth in the flesh to save all of mankind. If you are reading this and don't know if you are saved, I urge you to reach out to your pastor or a Christian friend or feel free to email me. I would be happy to point you in the direction of someone who can help.

Merry Christmas and may God bless you all!

Life on a Bus

In some previous blogs, I mentioned some of our experiences on airplanes and in airports during my recent multiple-state book tour for "77 Ways Your Family Can Make a Difference." I thought it only fitting to tell a story of the time we were stranded on a bus for over four hours. As one who vows never to get bored (life is to precious and much too short to get bored!) I must admit it appeared our trip on the bus could present a challenge for the Anti-Boredom Act.

Lon and I were on a return flight from Canada via Seattle when electrical storms prompted the pilot of our rather large plane to make an emergency landing six hours from home and four hours from the airport. Not only was there an electrical storm threat, but the weather was also turning nasty in terms of a snowstorm. The airline was kind enough to "rent" a bus for the entire load of people heading to the airport. As we climbed on the commercial bus, I knew it was going to be a long trip...

The day was cold and bleak. The threat of snow was in the air and the weary travelers sighed as they climbed the black steps into the commercial bus....

Did I say four hours from the airport? Figure that there is snow and ice on the road and four hours turns into much longer, with not much to look at in the way of scenery. (Did I mention this was out in the middle of nowhere?) So Lon and I climbed aboard the bus with our fellow travelers. As is custom for me, we headed toward a seat near the back. It may be that I've been a Zeller with a "z" so long that I'm used to being at the end of the line (or bus) or maybe it's just because I've never been a front row kind of gal (except that time that odd college professor thought it would be funny to put Penny in the second row) Anyway...

You get to know a lot about people just from spending time with them on a bus. We noticed after a couple hours into our trip that there were the following types of people aboard:

1. The talker. He wants everyone to know about his life. Yep, he sat in front of us. An executive-sort of person in nice clothing, he talked loud enough on his many cell phone calls that we knew everything about him in a matter of minutes - what he ate for dinner, what he did for a living, that he wouldn't be making it to yet another of his son's basketball games, etc. These types can be annoying and it made me regret not bringing ear plugs.

2. The sleeper. She sat several rows up from us and slept the whole time. I never sleep well when I'm not in my own bed and especially not in the confines of a bus with a blizzard outside. The sleeper never makes a peep, except for the occasional mumbling in her sleep. She is recognized by the drool puddle on the seat next to her.

3. The serious one. These types are very quiet and don't even laugh when there's something funny to laugh about. These zombies usually stare straight ahead in daydream mode and are grand prize winners of the "stare game." There were several of these on this bus.

4. The bus whisperers. These folks whisper the entire time, as if their secrets will get out if they speak in an audible tone. It makes listeners feel as though they are constantly missing out on important secrets. It makes me wish I had a cup with a string that I could hold to the back of the seat so I could "listen in." Hey, I just thought of something...what if a bus whisperer married the talker?

5. The reader. I love these type. They read a novel from front to back in a day and you can tell from the expressions on their faces what is happening in their book. Sometimes they even have sound effects for when they're reading the really scary parts.

6. The bathroom lady (self-explanatory). You can recognize this poor gal by the fact that she's never in her seat...

7. Secret Simon. He's a scary dude dressed in black from his head to his toe. His beady little eyes dart around and he has over 500 body piercings and a bad hairdo that looks like when I'm only half done with giving Lon a buzz cut. He talks into the collar of his jacket like he's an undercover FBI agent and eats Junior Mints like they're becoming extinct.

I know there must also be several types of bus drivers. Ours happened to be a jolly fellow with a great sense of a humor and a willingness to go out of his way for his passengers. His one downside was that he drove like one competing in the Autobon. It phased him little that his vehicle was longer than three mid-size cars and twice as tall.

So there we were on a bus with somewhere to go and nothing to do. I tried to go to sleep. Didn't work. I tried to call someone on my cell phone. No one was home. I tried to read, but I got carsick. I tried to be serious, but it's not in my nature. I admit, Lon and I did whisper a bit, but that was only to protect the innocent. You see, I had cleverly brought a small spiral tablet along. As a writer, I don't want to miss writing down any good ideas, especially since I was working on a contemporary Christian novel and needed to have some character traits for my characters. So there I was with my little tablet when I had the most awesome idea... why not draw caricatures of the people we were riding with and have Lon guess who they were? I'm not an artist in any sense of the word, but I can draw a downright good smiley face and my comical headshots of people aren't too bad. (oh, and I did win a contest when I was 4 1/2 years old that landed my drawing on a clothing line through JcPenney!) So time and time again, I drew pictures and time and time again Lon guessed who they were. He is so amazing - you'd never guess that he was such a good picture guesser. He'd look at my drawing and secretly point to the person he thought it was, kind of in a "don't look now, but..." way. He did a pretty good job for being an amateur guesser.

Well after a couple hours of playing that game, it got old and besides, I had drawn everyone on the bus, including Lon, the bus driver, and myself. On to something new...I slid up to the front of the bus to ask the driver if he had any movies we could watch. He smiled at me slyly and said, "Why, yes I do."

"Great!" I said. I prayed silently the movie would be one that the entire busload could watch. (I'm pretty protective over what I allow my eyes to see!)

"Here it is." He reached down into a secret compartment and handed me the movie. I bet you'll never guess which one it was. If you guessed "Speed," you win a prize! Yep, we were on a bus going pretty fast for weather conditions, a suspicious guy in a black trenchcoat just rows ahead of us, and watching "Speed." I knew then and there that our bus driver had a warped sense of humor.

Well, when "Speed" was over, I decided with only an hour or so to go, we'd better think about getting a hotel in the city with the airport since it was likely the roads to our home two hours away would be closed due to inclement weather. I called my dear old Dad on the cell phone and he proceeded to call every hotel in the city, all to no avail. Except one. One lonely hotel had one single room for us. Praise God! I didn't even want to think about sleeping on the bus!

So in the final phase of our trip, we played one of Lon's least favorite games. If you guessed it, you win! Yep, it's "What If." The game drives him crazy, but somehow I convinced him to play it. It's one of those unique kind of games where you ask someone "What If..." and they have to answer what they would do. Like one of my questions was "what if you had a 1970s pink station wagon with big purple flowers painted on it, a flat tire, only one seat (the driver's seat) and it was full of animals...would you drive it to work or would you walk? (Did I mention Lon would never want to be seen in a pink car and that it would take him half a day to walk to work?)

Finally, after numerous "potty" breaks and "gas station" breaks, we made it to the airport. Our driver was so nice that he even went out of his way to drive us to our hotel.

Well, this blog was so much longer than I'd ever anticipated it would be, but then again, so was that bus ride on that snowy day...

The Mistaken Moon

Lon and I were talking about some of the most hilarious moments in our 16 1/2 years of marriage the other day when the story of "The Mistaken Moon" came to mind. We relived that silly moment when mistaking someone for your spouse can have severe and longlasting consequences...

First of all, please know that I have Lon's full permission to write this story from about 10 years ago in my blog. We hope it brings a smile to your face and a laugh to your day. If so, then we will have done our job :)

Now for the background information: my sister and I were returning home from a fun evening together. We had seen a wholesome love story movie that our husbands would never see unless they were under some heavy-duty sedation - the kind for a major surgical procedure. Yep, this movie was way too lovey dovey for the man-mans of our lives!

At the time, Lon and I weren't the only ones who owned a Jeep Cherokee on our street. Our neighbors two houses down - a sweet Christian couple in their 50s - also owned a Cherokee. As my sister and I pulled into our neighborhood, I saw in front of us the neighbors, who also owned a Cherokee driving down the street. We followed them at some distance, laughing and giggling as only sisters can do. Little did we know those giggles would become intensely more profound within the next few minutes.

It was a very dark night, so I can understand how Lon could mistake our neighbors' Cherokee for ours, even though their Jeep was several years newer, hence the headlights worked much better and were much brighter (believe me, the bright headlights are an important part of this story!)

As our innocent neighbors rounded the corner onto our street, Lon was waiting - but not for them. He was actually waiting for us. Mistakenly thinking our neighbors were my sister and I, Lon stood in front of the driveway facing any and all oncoming traffic (not much, thankfully, on our street) and did his best to present a "moon" to light up the dark night. He crouched low and dropped his drawers ever so slightly while his gaze remained in the opposite direction. I can imagine him laughing hilariously to himself thinking how he had shocked us. He knows I don't see well at night, so he was probably figuring his white behind would illuminate the driveway and therefore help me to see to drive safely into the driveway without an accident. How wrong he was!

Our neighbors were shocked at the sight they beheld - seen ever so much clearer with the aid of fully-functioning new vehicle headlights. Later, they told us that after they recovered, they began to laugh uncontrollably at Lon's antic. They never ceased to forget the night there was a mistaken moon on our street.

A few seconds later, my sister and I rounded the corner, but by then, Lon had figured out the mistaken identity. He stood laughing with our neighbors as he recanted his story of the mistaken moon. My sister and I joined in the laughter and Lon took a vow (with Scout's honor) that night to never moon anyone (unless he was absolutely positively 100% sure it was me) again!

Our dear neighbors have since moved and we have since traded in our Jeep Cherokee. But one thing remains- the memory of the night sky on our quiet street being forever changed and illuminated at the hand of a silly husband who thought he'd shock his wife.

Take some time to do something silly (maybe not as embarrassing as the above story) but something silly nonetheless to make a memory in your marriage. I feel blessed to be able to share such hilarious times with the man God gave to me to be my life partner. We've been through good times, difficult times, stressful times, hungry and lean times, and funny practical joke times in our marriage - times that neither of us has ever regretted.

By the way, did I ever tell you that funny joke we played on an innocent bystander at our local grocery store? I'll save that for another time...