the thankful beethe thankful bee

Finding hope, joy and humor in our everyday.

Hello, and welcome to the thankful bee.

by Melissa Holderby on category

Hello, and welcome to the thankful bee. I am so excited you are here! I’d love to explain a little more about who we are and why we created this blog.

I have dreamed for a long time about authoring to encourage and uplift. What we see and hear every day often tempts us to believe that hatred and harm control the world. And, perhaps even more sadly, that we are powerless to influence any of it. True, negative information and images seem to constantly bombard us. Also true that it can all be overwhelming. However, writing is one of my weapons to fight against that. I find it helpful to use words as a weapon against hopelessness.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t have a naive, rose-colored view of life. Any of us could justifiably claim that the world is harsh and life is unfair. I personally know folks who bitterly exist. Defeated. Overwhelmed. My own family has lived through some pretty ugly stuff. And no doubt will again in the future. But I don’t believe we were meant to live in darkness. The thankful bee was created to shine some light.

wired to see grace and goodness

What if we were openly vulnerable with each other about our messes and mistakes? Imagine if we listened to truly understand. Or if we disagreed without attacking? The world would certainly be more hopeful, more genuine and more connected. My Creator wired me to see the grace and goodness in things – even the very hard things. It is not always easy, and I often need a nudge. In other words, the thankful bee is a place for me to remind myself as much as to encourage the rest of us.

So, I’ll say it again. Hello, and welcome to the thankful bee. Consider our blog a place to exhale, recharge and maybe even laugh a little. A small light of encouragement we can all share. We are happy you are here.

Featured image by Wadley Photography.

Are you sitting in an open grave?

by Melissa Holderby on category ,

It should have been a happy day. It wasn’t. In fact, I felt like I was sitting in an open grave. Unable to stand up and walk away. Allow me to explain…

the results of young and stupid

We recently found ourselves on the receiving end of an unplanned sum of money. Not enough to quit a job certainly, but enough to pay off several debts that have buried us for decades. To be clear, I’m not talking about our modest house mortgage or used car payments. I’m talking about credit debt. WAY too much credit debt if I’m being truthful. In our defense, some of those obligations were a result of college tuitions, medical bills and various unforeseen lousy circumstances. But let’s be honest, okay? Most of that debt represented a whole lot of “young and stupid”. In other words, buying stuff on credit that we didn’t immediately need, but we sure did want. Stuff that we felt we had “earned” because we worked hard and were generally nice people. Why shouldn’t we take that vacation? Have those new clothes? Enjoy a room of new furniture?

So we bought. Nothing flashy or extravagant, mind you. I am a fairly low-maintenance girl married to a fairly simple boy. We just purchased things that we should have waited and saved for instead of quickly buying with the bank’s money. Because guess what? The banks aren’t our friends, and they would like their money back with interest. I get it. It’s business.

buried financially and emotionally

Not only did those debts financially bury me, but emotionally entomb me as well. Our mountain of financial mess was colored deep shades of shame and regret for me. Regret that we didn’t handle our money with more wisdom or restraint early in our marriage, and plenty of regret that those decisions had control over us still. Every month I sent another minimum payment I heard the same recording in my head. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” And so, I dutifully sat in the grave we had dug for ourselves, deeply ashamed.

suddenly my grave was opened

Then along came that unplanned sum of money and freedom was closer than ever before. With a few clicks of a button we were able to knock our daunting mountain down to a manageable mole hill. In other words, we were able to pay down a significant chunk of our credit debt and pay cash for some long-overdue repairs to the house. There was finally light breaking through the burden. There was space to finally exhale. What a glorious leap toward financial freedom, right?

Except I didn’t feel glorious. Or free. Nope, I felt… well… nothing. I remember the exact day the payments all posted to our accounts and zeroed out the balances due. My husband was so happy! I was grateful to be sure, but numb. Almost dead inside.

What in the world? What was the matter with me? I should have been rejoicing in the streets at the very least. Instead I was sitting in an open grave with all the joyfulness of a corpse. Those accounts had kept me wide awake plenty of nights to be sure, buried under their weight financially and emotionally. And now those debts were gone. POOF! Eradicated. So, where was my sense of relief? I thought I’d feel alive again!

clearing my muddled mind

And that’s when I asked God for guidance. I should mention that He doesn’t audibly talk to me in a voice that I can physically hear with my ears. (No burning bushes in our front yard either, although that would be pretty neat.) Instead He communicates with me through pictures in my head. Or sometimes the sharp arrow of an unexpected thought cutting to the front of my muddled mind – usually a thought I don’t recognize. Sometimes He even speaks a word to me through other people. (Some of you reading this blog have served as that person for me at one time or another. Thank you!) Anyway, I looked up to the wide blue sky while still sitting in my open grave and said something like this…

Hey, God. Can we talk about something?

You know I love our chats. What’s on your mind?

Well, I am forever grateful for this unplanned money and the freedom from debt it represents. I honestly doubted that the day would ever come that we would be free from those accounts. Now that day is here, and I feel no comfort.

Why do you think that is?

I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact I didn’t EARN it. That gift was given to us out of love and sacrifice. I didn’t deserve it, and I can’t “pay it forward” to someone else. It’s almost like I still owe somebody something.

I see. Do you carry those same thoughts over into your relationship with Me?

What do You mean?

I mean, do you have difficulty fully accepting My love and grace because you didn’t earn it? You feel you don’t deserve it, and you will always “owe” Me a debt you can never repay?

Well… … … yes … … … … that’s probably accurate.

And did you notice what week your credit accounts cleared to zero?

The week of Good Friday and Easter. (I’m beginning to see the connection You are suggesting.)

Right. The week of My biggest sacrifice, given freely out of love as a gift to cover your debts. You owe nothing for that. Zero. Nada. You just have to receive it.

But, I have received it! I have received You! I try to walk in relationship with You as closely as I can.

Yes, and I love that. And you don’t fully embrace the JOY and PEACE that comes from relationship with Me despite your circumstances. Just like your heart couldn’t experience relief when your credit accounts were paid in full. You are still sitting in an open grave wondering if you have earned the right to leave. I am not shame, and I am not regret. I AM the light in the darkness. Step out of that open grave and join me. Feel joy and peace no matter your circumstances. That’s the life I gave to you. That’s the life I want for you. And I’m right here. Waiting. For YOU. I have saved you a good seat in the sunshine.

Are we still sitting in an open grave?

Well, that certainly got me further thinking on the matter. Debt was a deep grave we had dug for ourself a long time ago, and I was willing to continuously punish myself by sitting in the shame and regret even when I had been given my freedom. Are there other open graves in my life? Dank and dark places where I still sit despite knowing that I am no longer obligated to stay there? Is my grave forgiveness I stubbornly withhold? Ongoing guilt over my myriad of past mistakes? Pervasive anxiety over my children’s futures?

I am still pondering all that and working through it with God’s guidance. What can I say? I am a work in progress. But I am not in eternal debt anymore. Jesus paid that for me. And that’s what I want for you, friends. I want you to quiet your hearts and your minds and allow Jesus to pay your bill IN FULL. We are not meant to stay in our own figurative graves. We are meant to walk with our Father in the light. He loves us. He loves us enough to make the ultimate sacrifice with us on His mind. Receive it with confidence. Embrace it in full. Then have peace and joy because of it.

So, until next time, friends. May the God of Easter’s empty tomb shine His light on you. And may you stand up and walk right out of your own open grave – whatever those circumstances may be. He’s saved you a seat in the sunshine.

Happy Easter, bee readers!

Fondly, Melissa

“This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance!” – Romans 8:15-16 (MSG)

Why this mom won’t pray for a special miracle.

by Melissa Holderby on category , ,

We are blog friends, right? I mean, I assume you can handle my sloppy truth without judging me too harshly. Well, this mom won’t pray for a special miracle for her special needs son. There, I said (typed) it. And I want to tell you why.

I sat down to write this specific message to you several times without success. Every time I mustered the energy to log into my writing platform, I just sat and stared at the blank screen. The little cursor blinking patiently in the upper left-hand corner of the glowing display. How can I possibly articulate my feelings around this without dishonoring Someone? Or sending the wrong message? Or even worse – discouraging another hurting soul? And every time I slammed my laptop shut and walked away. A little less confident and a little more discouraged.

I’ll be completely honest, friends. I haven’t published anything since April for a multitude of reasons. The world seems to have swallowed me whole and left little of my creative spark behind. Most days I am focused on what has to get done in the next 24 hours at home and at work while still eeking out a little bit of parenting. My friendships, my marriage and my writing have all taken a back seat. Again. Can anyone else out there relate? Can a tired girl get an “amen”?

A special miracle.

Even deeper than my surface reasons, I have been too afraid to share this with you. What in the world could I possibly have to say to meaningfully encourage another warrior momma walking a similar direction? The issues of parenting a special needs child seem too big, and my words feel too small. I certainly don’t want to sprinkle hollow platitudes or insult anyone else’s story with shallow ideas. The Thankful Bee was created to be a balm. A beacon. A place where we can all exhale for a minute, recharge, and then take another step forward. I am truthfully unsure if I can be that for anyone (or even for myself) at the moment.

Still, I feel compelled to share my journey forward on this particular path. In other words, why this mom won’t pray for a special miracle – complete and immediate healing for her son’s cerebral palsy. My story isn’t clean or tidy. In fact, it is fraught with hard feelings and tough questions. Questions like, “Why does God allow babies to be born with disabilities?” Or, “Why does God grant some people’s petitions for miraculous healing and not others?” Does He favor one person over another? And why, despite my professed strong faith, does this mom not pray for that specific, special miracle?

Let’s question the basics.

Before we delve into the deeper points, let’s answer some foundational questions together. I had to really look long and hard at these to determine whether I was stuck in the muck of a basic tenet or not.

Question #1: Do I genuinely believe God is powerful enough to heal my son?

Answer: Yes, His omnipotence has never been in doubt with me. All I have to do is look back at Luke’s adoption story to see His might. God moved impossible mountains to bring Luke, his birth mom and our family together. Nobody and nothing will ever convince me otherwise. Period. I 100% firmly believe that God is capable of erasing Luke’s cerebral palsy with one breath, one word or one nod.

Question #2: Do I honestly believe that God is good/kind/loving enough to heal my son?

Answer: I soul searched on this question a bit longer than the first one. Probably because of those really tough questions I mentioned earlier. And while this blog post isn’t meant to resolve why bad things happen to good people, I still have to answer “YES”. Yes, I can look back on the five decades of my life and point to specific evidence of God’s loving faithfulness. How His goodness rose up out of the ashes of my own past desperate situations to bring beauty and joy and peace. So, yes, I have to answer that God is good and His love for Luke and our family is rock solid.

[Case in point? Have you read about our sparrow yet? It will always be one of my favorite stories. You can find it HERE.]

Let’s really rip it open.

I have examined my heart, and I believe that God is powerful enough. And I believe He is good/kind/loving enough. So, why won’t this mom pray for a special miracle to obliterate her son’s cerebral palsy? Warning, this is where my feelings get extra sloppy. Do I believe that our family is WORTHY of a miracle?

Certainly there are thousands of mothers out there asking God right now to heal their babies of worse things – terminal cancer, pervasive drug addiction, crippling depression, etc. I mean, Luke’s cerebral palsy isn’t a progressive condition, and it isn’t fatal. His muscles are weak and floppy, and his balance and coordination are impaired. He is not yet able to communicate verbally, and he sometimes drools if not prompted to swallow or wipe his mouth. His gross motor, fine motor and expressive speech skills are all impacted, but his intelligence is unaffected. He’s a super smart little cookie trapped in an uncooperative body. He can only improve from here, and he continues to encourage us with his steady progress.

(Side Note Public Service Announcement – Don’t assume that because he isn’t talking that he isn’t taking in every word you say. He also isn’t hearing impaired. So when you ask invasive questions about his special needs or about his adoption story, HE CAN HEAR AND UNDERSTAND YOU. Seriously, I assume you are well intentioned people, but don’t make me punch you. Because I will. Like a protective mama bear with a slightly floppy, drooly, non-verbal cub. )

Moving on…

So, do I not pray for that miracle because I think other families are ahead of us in line at heaven’s “Miracles Answered Here” window? Yep, that’s probably it if I am being completely truthful with myself (and you). We are managing, and Luke is doing well despite his struggles. Feel free to bless someone else with our miracle, Lord. We don’t want to ask for more than we deserve. We want whatever YOU want.

God’s unexpected response.

Anyway, in talking to God about my reasons for not specifically asking Him for a miracle for Luke, He answered me in a very unexpected way with just two words. “SLOW BURN”. Huh? Those weren’t exactly the words I needed. And then it was like the veil was lifted from my eyes and I saw a teeny peek of what God sees. God has already given this mom a special miracle for her boy. Luke’s miracle healing isn’t a quick flash. Instead, it is a SLOW BURN.

Luke’s miracle is the team of talented therapists and teachers who build into him (and me) every week at school. Slow burn.

His miracle is a team of gifted outpatient therapists and other medical specialists who genuinely care enough about him (and me) to patiently listen to my concerns and include me in the decision making. Slow burn.

Our miracle is having two jobs that allow us to accommodate our schedules around Luke’s needs. And some seriously amazing health insurance. And access to resources other families don’t automatically have. Slow burn.

His miracle is the unexpected financial help that has come our way to pay for expensive equipment and services not covered by that awesome insurance. Grants, special funds, and one heck of a financial advocate through our local Children’s Hospital. For example, did you know that a local coffee shop’s baristas covered a portion of Luke’s $7,000 speech generating device by donating all of their customer tips for a full month? Who even does that?! Slow burn.

And Luke’s miracle is a community of friends and family who fiercely love him and support us as his parents. They pray for us, and make us laugh and pick up the slack when we need help. Slow burn.

Your own slow burn.

Where are YOU on this road? Even if you are not raising a child with special needs, I bet there is something in your life for which you’d love a little divine intervention. What is that prayer you leave unspoken? Do you doubt God’s power to grant it? Do you question His goodness around that thing? Or, like me, do you consider your ask unworthy in light of other peoples’ “bigger” problems?

Regardless, my advice to you is to still boldly ask Him. Be that mom and pray for the special miracle. And then look for your own slow burns. God is always listening, and He always answers (“yes”, “no” or “wait”). Sometimes just not in the way we expect.

Until next time, friends!

Melissa

Online resources.

Want to learn more about cerebral palsy? Here are some helpful links.

Cerebral Palsy Foundation https://www.yourcpf.org/

Center For Disease Control and Prevention – Cerebral Palsy https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/cp/index.html

Secrets for a successful summer with your college student.

by Melissa Holderby on category

The day has finally come! I am super excited about this week. Why? Because this week we move our eldest son – our “middle kid” – home from college for the summer. Our willful man-child who has had free rein to live his 19-year-old life any way HE sees fit while away at school. What could possibly go wrong? So, on the eve of moving our dear son out of his dorm room and back home with us for a few months, here are our secrets for a successful summer with your college student.

An open message to our college student

As you pack up your dorm room after freshman year on campus, let’s review some expectations before you arrive home for the summer. The following list may be refined as needed. We are all learning and growing, and your input is certainly welcome. Please know that may not change anything, but we respect your opinion nevertheless. We have just found that these are some secrets for ALL of us to enjoy a successful summer without wanting to strangle each other in the process.

What we expect from YOU for a successful summer

Our house and our car

#1. Driving our car is your sometimes privilege and not your right. You don’t pay for maintenance or insurance. Therefore, it’s not your car. You may ask permission ahead of time to borrow our car, which will most likely be granted assuming you always bring the car back in the same shape it left. Driving the car to/from work on a semi-regular basis will require some contribution toward gas on your part. Please refer to #8 below about “adulting”.

#2. You are expected to keep your hall bathroom picked up, and will need to physically clean the sink/toilet/shower on a regular basis. Our house is not the guys’ dorm, so don’t be overtly disgusting. (Fart jokes are still acceptable and encouraged.)

#3. Grass mowing. We know you love it!

#4. Left overs with no name are fair game. But if it doesn’t spell C-O-L-I-N, then please do N-O-T eat it.

Our feelings

#5. As a matter of courtesy to us, we ask that you let us know where you are going and when you expect to be home. This is not the same as asking our permission like in high school. This is more a matter of respectful consideration between people who live together. Please see #9 below if you plan to be out late. 

#6. There will be ZERO smoking, vaping, underage drinking or street drug use on our property. This includes inside either of our cars. No alcohol. No pot / weed / reefer / devil’s lettuce / jazz cabbage / buddha / fry daddy / geek / crack back / juice joints. Or any other of the hundreds of slang terms in use these days. Absolutely NO exceptions. Oh, and we don’t care if it is already legal in several states and “everybody does it”. We’re not “everybody”. This is a non-negotiable, zero tolerance policy. It also applies to any of your guests.

#7. If your girlfriend comes to town to visit, we would love to meet her. And she will NOT be sleeping in your room. Neither will you be sharing a couch, air mattress, futon or tent for sleeping under our roof. What you choose to do on your own time at school is not our business. (Although you know we have strong opinions about it.) That being said what happens in our house, yard, driveway and cars IS our business.

But that is only one side of the secrets to a successful summer with a college student. Read on!

What you can expect from US for a successful summer

The house

#8. The laundry, shower and general groceries are openly available to you for free. If the water bill and grocery bill get out of hand, then you will be asked to contribute. That’s just real life. Welcome to “adulting”.

#9. We will not micromanage what time you get up in the morning or what time you go to bed at night. AS LONG AS YOUR LATE HOURS don’t keep or wake anyone else up. We’re much older than you and we have early mornings.

Your feelings

#10. We will not treat you like a free live-in babysitter. There may be times we will ask you ahead of time to watch your little brother, and we will treat you with respect and consideration when we do so. 

#11. We will always do our best to listen and not just blurt out judgments. (That last part was for your dad.) We will offer you advice when you ask for it. Perhaps we will also offer you our unsolicited opinion if you appear to be careening headlong into trouble with blinders on due to your limited life experience thus far. We fully understand and accept that you are not obligated to take our advice. Regardless, we will always be in your corner.

#12. We will have fun, relax and recharge. We will give you room to breathe and just be a “kid”. Let’s cook thick steaks on the grill. Or the cheapest of hotdogs if you prefer. And let’s make s’mores over the firepit for dessert. We will go to the beach (assuming no emergencies again this year). There will be game nights and golf outings and movies. And last but not least, we will hug you as often as you allow it.

Love, Mom and Dad

A closing word to our readers

These secrets for a successful summer are not necessarily meant to be prescriptive for your own family. The above list represents OUR value system and what works for OUR family. Feel free to use what resonates with you and disregard what doesn’t. We have just found that clear and concise expectations up front spare us a lot of misunderstanding and hurt feelings later. And, yes, we literally put the above list in writing and shared it with our son BEFORE he and all of his stuff moved back home. Parenting clearly and consistently has worked for us with our kids over the past two decades – whether our “babies” are two years old or almost twenty years old.

Here’s to a successful summer with your own college student! It’s a unique stage of parenting, and can be one of your favorites. The next school year will be here before we know it, and we’ll be waving good-bye once again.

Do I really and truly believe in Jesus’ resurrection?

by Melissa Holderby on category

Friends, I have MISSED you! I won’t go into all the details about where I’ve been or why I haven’t written to you in a few months. Suffice it to say that several life stressors reached up all at one time and sucked me into a sinkhole of other pressing responsibilities. Or in other words, day-to-day life kicked me in the teeth, and I have been tired. Too weary to write for certain. I think I have come up for a quick gulp of air, though, and I want to share something with you. Something that God has been pressing into my heart over the past few weeks – Do I really, truly believe in Jesus’ resurrection? Like honestly believe it?

Golgotha and the fanciest of carrots.

That’s certainly a loaded question to ponder, isn’t it? Especially during the holiest week of the Christian calendar that culminates in Easter, aka “Resurrection Sunday”. Like many of you who follow the same traditions this week, I dyed the hard boiled eggs, bought the milk chocolate bunnies and made plans to attend church in person for the first time since pandemic shutdown in March 2020. I have given pause this week to consider historical locations in and around Jerusalem like the Upper Room, the Garden of Gethsemane, and Golgotha. I’ve thought about names like Peter, Judas, Pontius Pilate, and Mary Magdalene.

Oh, but I didn’t stop there. Heck, I even made arrangement for my immediate family of five to enjoy lamb chops, roasted potatoes and fancy carrots for Easter dinner. And yes, they are fancy carrots because they are tri-colored and organic. (Typically my kids are used to single-hued orange carrots with pesticide residue, thank you very much. But this is EASTER DINNER for Pete’s sake, so I splurged on the most special of carrots.) Oh, and I almost forgot. Lemon meringue pie for dessert. Not homemade pie. Out of a box pie. Because I’m not super woman and I’m tired, remember?

Anyway, amidst all of my Easter-y doings, God put a big question on my little heart. Not once, but three times.

The big question.

Do I really, truly believe in Jesus’ resurrection?

Wait…..what???

Of course I believe in Jesus’ resurrection! I actually really enjoy Easter. I mean, I’ve got the pastel decorated eggs, and the chocolate rabbits. We have the fanciest of carrots for dinner, Lord. And we have pie! Of course I really and truly believe!

Do I really and truly believe in Jesus’ resurrection?

Um…. like as an actual historical event? Is that what you mean, Lord? Yes, yes I do. And not just because I got spoon fed the story as a child either. I’ve given this some serious adult contemplation over the decades. Thoughtfully considered multiple sides of the debate. I’ve read investigative journalist Lee Strobel’s book, The Case for Christ. (Okay, I watched the movie, but it made me WANT to read the book.) Jesus’ resurrection is the cornerstone of my entire faith. My ultimate reason for hope and joy and peace in this crazy world. So, yes, I really and truly believe.

Then He planted the same question with a slight twist.

Do I actively live my life really and truly believing in Jesus’ resurrection?

Boom! There it was. THAT deserved some pondering on my part. I mean, I publicly profess to believe it. Do I privately live like I believe it? In other words, do I conduct myself as if I believe that the same holy power that raised Jesus from the dead is alive and working in the world today? Or more specifically, alive and working in my own little blip of a life?

My final answer.

Well, let’s examine that together for a moment, shall we?

I said earlier in this post that I’ve been weary. Tired. Spent. Part of that stems from a recent uptick in medical and therapy appointments for my youngest son, Luke, as he prepares to turn three years old in a few months. Between the processes of leaving Early Intervention services, starting public preschool services with an IEP, prepping for a dual outpatient surgery, and coordinating his ongoing care between multiple departments at our fabulous children’s hospital, WHEW! It’s like a second full time job.

And some days it is an uphill climb for me emotionally and mentally. Why? Because if I am being completely honest with myself (and you), I feel driven to stay hyper-vigilant about Luke’s cerebral palsy and his rehab 24/7. In my mind, if I don’t immediately make the appointments, do all the therapeutic activities and constantly stay on top of the insurance benefits and pending grants, then my little boy will somehow lose and cerebral palsy will win.

Huh. It is strange to even put that into words. But there it is, in Arial font, for all the world to see and judge. I never fully exhale at the end of the day, because I am not living like I really and truly believe in Jesus’ resurrection. I mean, it’s all right there in the Easter story that I’ve heard and read to my own babies countless times. Death did not win. The darkness did not win. And I have to really and truly believe that cerebral palsy will not win in the end either.

Where do we go from here?

So, what does that mean for me? For us? It means that we are invited to receive the same power that resurrected Jesus from the grave. To ultimately hang our hope on the exact same Holy Spirit to restore us to wholeness. And whether physical, mental or emotional healing be in this literal lifetime or on the other side of Heaven, we do not have to be fearful. We can have hope today. Joy. Peace.

You see, I am not called to live afraid for my son. I am not called to carry the weight of healing him or protecting him from cerebral palsy. And I do not have to tend the figurative fire 24/7 for fear of Luke somehow “losing”. Because Easter tells us the end of the story. Life will win. The Light will win. Mightily and completely. And the resurrected Jesus stands in the gap between what we humanly can and cannot accomplish on our own.

Romans 8:15-17 (MSG) “This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike, ‘What’s next, Papa?’ God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us – an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we’re certainly going to go through the good times with him!”

Happy Easter, friends. The grave is empty. Exhale, celebrate and live like you really and truly believe it.

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Should we even make plans for 2021?

by Melissa Holderby on category

Should we even make plans for 2021? I mean, for the love of all that is good in the world, my initial plans for 2020 did NOT materialize. Like at all. I bet I’m not alone in that. Sometime in January, I typically go back and look at my “resolutions” from the previous year. Doing so this January was laughable (and a little painful).

Related content: I Don’t Make New Year Resolutions Because They Stink!

I published a blog article back in December 2019 explaining why I don’t make New Year resolutions per se, but I enjoy making a New Year “bucket list”. That blog post shared my personal bucket list for 2020. Let’s see how I did, shall we?

#1. Take a beginning pottery class.

Yeah, my class started in March 2020. I got one lesson in – long enough to realize I LOVE using a pottery wheel – and then *BAM*. You know what happened. That pandemic thing in China and Europe punched arrogant America right in the mouth. The studio shut down for months on end, and there was no more throwing clay for me.

#2. Tour a local winery.

Nope. (Insert the classic game show buzzer sound of failure here.) My family has taken this whole social distancing thing super seriously. We mask, socially distance (even from our extended family on holidays), scrub our hands like brain surgeons, and avoid public places whenever possible. I can count on ONE FINGER the number of restaurants and bars that have seen my face at a table inside in the past ten months. TEN MONTHS.

Still, Allan had COVID-19 in April/May 2020 and endured a twenty-nine day quarantine, and Luke had a much milder case in November 2020. And despite my multiple negative test results, I’m not entirely convinced that I didn’t have a touch of the virus during either of those episodes, too. Perhaps I should have just toured the dang winery.

Related content: Coronavirus Broke Into Our House.

#3. Travel to South Africa.

Okay, the first two are disappointing to me in varying degrees, but this one hurts my heart. I was supposed to go on a mission trip to South Africa in July 2020. I bought a travel backpack and researched vaccines and started reading up on South African culture. That dream journey was (rightfully) cancelled with no foreseeable rescheduling in sight. So, my travel backpack sits unused at the bottom of my bedroom closet with the store tags still in place. The worst part? I know the NEED still exists, and I’m not allowed to go be a part of the solution in person. I’m a hands-on worker bee, so I especially hate that.

Should we even make plans for 2021?

So, what to do for this new year? Should we even make plans for 2021? I’ve given it some serious prayerful consideration, and I’ve come to the following conclusion. I’m certain the answer is “YES”. Yes, we should absolutely make plans for 2021. We are uniquely designed to be creative and imaginative. To have hopes and dreams for ourselves and our families. And the free will to pursue it all. What a remarkable gift we’ve been given.

And yet, I am also certain that the answer is that we should make plans for 2021 “WITH HUMILITY”. Clearly 2020 reminded us that nothing is guaranteed and nothing is permanent. The entire world can change right before our eyes in an instant. One of my favorite books of the Bible (James) mentions this very thing related to making our earthly plans. James 4:13-15

So where does this leave us? What does this mean for us practically and logistically?

It means that we should write our plans down on paper AND keep them open for however God may chose to use them. And that, dear friends, requires a level of humility we humans do not readily embrace. Ultimately, our plans don’t belong to us. Our money and our material possessions don’t belong to us. Our children and our spouses don’t belong to us. In fact, our very lives don’t even belong to us. All of those things are precious gifts to be enjoyed and wisely stewarded, and then eventually returned to our Creator in the end.

Practical next steps.

If you will indulge me, here is one example from my own life for 2021…

We have plans for a beach vacation to South Carolina this summer. That requires some effort on our part logistically. Hotel reservations. Time requested off work. Saving money ahead of time. A boarding kennel for the dog. And so on and so on.

In the midst of the excitement of all of those physical preparations, I am praying. And I’m not praying exactly the way I used to. You know, like a laundry list of ways God may bless MY plans.

Lord, please help me make it to the end of this insane school year so I can go on this vacation and finally relax. Bless us with coupons and Groupons and after 6pm discounts. Oh, and low humidity and light traffic would also be swell. Amen.

Instead, I am trying something new for 2021. Something more like this…

Lord, I am struggling to keep my stress and anxiety in check this school year. Allan and I would really love to be able to get to the beach to relax with each other and the kids. Thank you for providing us with the means to pay for it, if You want us to spend our money this way. Please show me opportunities to be all about Your Kingdom as we plan for this trip. Amen.

Are we willing to be second?

What plans are you making for 2021? Is there a way you can humbly submit those plans to God? Try it. He wants good things for you. Eternal, soul-building things. And the best way to receive ALL that He has for you is to put Him first, especially as we go about making our earthly plans and preparations. It’s counter-cultural from what the world would sell us, I know. This guy has another way of saying it… (and I really like his shirt).

May your 2021 be full of blessings – both planned and unplanned. And may our paths cross in person sometime this year – maybe at a winery or even at the beach this summer! If God wants.

Love, Melissa

How my favorite Christmas movie mirrors 2020.

by Melissa Holderby on category

Our last blog post for the calendar year. I thought today we’d just have some fun together. Sound okay to you? Let’s have a relaxed romp through my favorite Christmas movie, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. It was originally released in the US in December 1989 by Warner Bros. when I was a sophomore in college. As I watched it for the umpteenth time this year, I saw a parallel I never had before. Because 2020 has been a year unlike any other. So, put on your Santa slippers, grab a piece of left-over pie and let’s explore how my favorite Christmas movie mirrors 2020.

I know some of you may be shaking your heads at me right now because my favorite holiday flick isn’t something more wholesome like It’s A Wonderful Life or Miracle On 34th Street. Don’t get me wrong – I like those, too. Yet, somehow, Christmas Vacation steals my heart every single December. Maybe it’s the goofy slapstick humor? Maybe it’s the relatability to members of my own family (mostly my in-laws)? Perhaps the soundtrack? Or quotable lines like this gem from Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase)? “Where do you think you’re going? Nobody’s leaving. Nobody’s walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We’re all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We’re gonna press on, and we’re gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny-f***ing-Kaye.”

Regardless of the reasons, I love this movie. And viewing the characters as fractured pieces of 2020 helps me structure a mental framework around the chaos of the past year.

Cousin Eddie

On the lighter side of this year, my favorite Christmas movie mirrors 2020 through the character of Cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid). You know the guy. He is a mess of a man, a burning dumpster meme in the flesh. Eddie shows up uninvited, roots through our garbage and breaks our fragile stuff. Eddie is unintentionally obtrusive and crude – the cringe-worthy opposite of Clark’s dreams for a perfect old-fashioned family holiday. And he parks his dilapidated RV (“rolling tenement on wheels”) in our driveway with no plans to leave anytime soon.

Once I got this mental image of 2020 stuck in my head, I couldn’t unsee it. Painfully awkward 2020 gleefully standing outside my window, drinking a beer at 8:00am and emptying the RV’s septic tank into my storm sewer next to a pile of charred trash. “Merry Christmas! Shitter was full!”

Mr. Shirley

On the more serious side of things, my favorite Christmas movie also mirrors 2020 through the character of Frank Shirley (Brian Doyle-Murray). He is the no-nonsense CEO of the food additive company where Clark works. Mr. Shirley doesn’t view any of the employees as individuals, but as numbers on a spread sheet that all impact the bottom line. In fact, one of the movie’s running gags is that Mr. Shirley never gets Clark’s name right. (Carl instead of Clark. Greaseball instead of Griswold. And so on.) For most of the movie he is cold, joyless and impersonal. And he financially sucker punches Clark right in his bank account. Jelly of the Month Club, anyone?

How many of us have wanted to explode in an emotional tirade at some aspect (or aspects) of 2020? We feel angry at the injustices, the burdens and the losses. And justifiably so. I took the liberty of tweaking Clark’s rant about Mr. Shirley for 2020. Read it out loud to yourself and let some of that anger go. No reason to carry that into 2021. Seriously, go ahead. I’ll wait…

Feel a little better? At least a little amused, even temporarily? Good! Remember, laughter is therapeutic and it’s free.

Spoiler alert

At the end of the movie, the entire extended family goes outside to the front lawn when Eddie’s two young children believe they see Santa Claus in the distance. Clark tells them it is actually the Christmas Star and that he finally realizes what the holiday means to him. Of course, Uncle Lewis (William Hickey) corrects him that the light is actually coming from the local sewage treatment plant. This reminds Clark that Eddie had been dumping his RV sewage into the nearby storm drain. Unfortunately, before Clark can stop him, Uncle Lewis tosses a cigar match into the drain which ignites a small explosion.

The blast sends the family’s Santa and reindeer yard decorations soaring into the night sky. Aunt Bethany (Mae Questel) starts singing the US National Anthem and everyone joins in as the flaming decorations fly off into the distance. The entire family (including a repentant Mr. Shirley, his wife and the SWAT team) then celebrates inside what’s left of the Griswold’s house.

The End.

What I want to carry into 2021

Ah, Christmas movie magic. I wish 2020 could wrap up as sweetly as my movie. Oh, I know that isn’t the case. I understand that folks are grieving very real losses and that doesn’t magically end when the credits roll for this year. There is plenty of work yet to be done. I get it.

Still, I want to carry part of Christmas Vacation with me into 2021. Clark’s optimism. (“A lot of sap in here! Looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”) Mr. Shirley’s repentance and humility. Aunt Bethany’s pure (albeit confused) sweetness. (“Grace??? She died thirty years ago!”) And Cousin Eddie’s… um… well… let’s say his authenticity.

But mostly, I want to carry laughter with me into next year. A whole rusted out RV full of laughter. Because I have no doubt that at multiple points in 2021, I will find myself facing very real struggles. And I will need my sense of (slapstick) humor.

So, here’s to YOU in 2021. May your lime jello never come topped with cat food. May your house never have a wild squirrel inside. And may your shitter never get too full.

Stay encouraged.

Love, Melissa

Tagging you in our joy-filled holiday.

by Melissa Holderby on category

Today is all about tagging you in our joy-filled holiday. But, let’s be clear. The term “tag” has changed over the five decades of my life, and I want to be sure we are all on the same page.

For example, my earliest connection to “tag” was a playground game as a child. If you tagged someone, that meant you touched them in a game of chase, rendering them “it”. Then much later in my life in college, my anatomy professor “tagged” body parts on the anatomy lab cadavers for our tests and exams. Relax, no human anatomy exams (or actual cadavers) included today. More recently, we’ve gotten accustomed to “tagging” our friends and family in social media posts.

We’re not referring to any of those kinds of “tags” this time. No, we’re talking about gift tags. Like the kind you include on a wrapped package to indicate to whom (and from whom) the gift was intended. So, we’d like to tell you about a holiday gift that sat untouched and (almost) forgotten in our basement for four years.

We are tagging this post, “To our readers, with love from the thankful bee”.

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I signed the last gift tag, secured it to the wrapped box and placed the package under the tree. That gift was especially meaningful. Not because of the contents or the cost or the uniqueness. That gift was special because we had bought it four years prior for a boy or girl we had yet to meet. The toy sat in our basement for four Decembers. Never wrapped. Never opened. But this December was different. This Christmas Eve night that gift sat under our tree, wrapped in Santa paper and ready for the next morning. A fulfilled promise with a red and green bow.

the front said “Joy”

The front of the gift tag said “Joy”, and that’s what I was learning to hold on to despite our circumstances in that moment. You see, the last few months of 2018 had hit our family especially hard. We faced unforeseen obstacles to Luke’s adoption finalization, and fear came calling. Allan was unceremoniously laid off from his job of twenty-five years without warning, and fear came calling. Shortly afterward my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and guess what? Fear was still knocking loudly at my door.

Our roller coaster since September had beaten me down, but I was clinging onto Christmas. Oh, not the decorations or the wrapping or the cookies (although I do LOVE the holiday cookies). I was clinging onto the Christmas baby. You know the One. Little guy wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Because of the promises of that baby, I knew that my fear had to stay outside on the porch, and I could still find joy in small things every day. That’s what Christmas promises. Hope for a hurting world.

the back said “Luke”

The back of the JOY gift tag read, “To Luke, from Mommy and Daddy”. Life is crazy. One minute we were preparing to give up our nearly five-year adoption wait, and the next minute we took a phone call about a baby boy in California. God had been working out that miracle the entire time. We just couldn’t see it.

God showed up HUGE for all of us – Luke, his birth mom Nadine, Allan and me. And God continued to look out for our family. The new year brought a new job for Allan, the right cancer doctors for my mom, and progress toward Luke’s adoption finalization in the California courts.

our gift tag for you

So, this December we are tagging YOU in our joy-filled holiday. Fear still likes to prowl around on our front porch, especially in 2020. Goodness, gracious. Can I get an “AMEN”? But we are focusing on the hope of Christmas. The light breaking through the darkness. The joy in the small things.

We hope the thankful bee has been an encouragement to you in 2020, and we’re excited about the year to come.

May you always see your blessings more clearly than your struggles. May you always have exactly what you need, if not everything you want. And may you always sense your worth. You are precious and so very loved. In fact, you are absolutely worth dying for, according to the King and Author of Creation. His perfect love drives out fear. Receive it. Embrace it. And be encouraged.

Merry Christmas, friends!

Love, Melissa

Adapted from original 12/24/2018 Facebook post.

Two newlyweds and a stupid holiday ornament.

by Melissa Holderby on category ,

How can two newlyweds and a stupid holiday ornament tell a story? Well, several of you have asked to be introduced, so please meet the infamous “stupid, ugly holiday pizza guy ornament” mentioned in last weekend’s post: Ornament Placement Disorder Ruined A Holiday Tradition. Here he is – Pontius Pizza, the Christmas Guy. And here is his backstory.

When Allan and I were first married and living in Bakersfield, California (MANY Christmases ago), this ugly thing came with our pizza one night as a marketing promotion. Allan insisted on hanging it on our scrubby little Christmas tree in our apartment. I equally insisted on the opposite, arguing that corporate pizza chain mascots have nothing to do with the meaning of the holiday.

Allan retorted that “Pontius Pizza” was a main character in the Christmas Story. (No, uninformed new husband…. King Herod is part of Christmas. Pontius Pilate is part of EASTER!) That’s when it got ridiculous between two stubborn, immature newly wed kids. It was more important for each of us to be right than to be kind to each other. Ever have a moment like that?

Pontius Pizza, the Christmas Guy

Over the years, “Pontius Pizza, the Christmas Guy” has grown on me. Since that first Christmas together, he has been promoted from the bottom of the ornament box, to the back of the tree, to front and center. Similarly, Allan and I have worked to grow our marriage to front and center as well. Some days that feels easy. Other days that feels… well… like hard work. Because we are two broken humans who often still fall into the trap of being stubborn and immature. Don’t get me wrong – I still like to be “right” (and usually am), but I generally won’t fight to the death anymore in the process.

Someday when I am another widow in a nursing home (MANY Christmases from now), I hope my kids hang Pontius Pizza in my room every December. He makes me smile at how far two newlyweds and a stupid holiday ornament have come. The extra effort is worth it. Even on the hard days.

Adapted from original 12/10/17 Facebook post.

Header image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay.

Ornament Placement Disorder ruined a holiday tradition.

by Melissa Holderby on category

Below is a letter I wrote to myself a few years ago. In other words, “Melissa of Christmas PRESENT” penned some words to “Melissa of Christmas PAST”. You see, I needed some of my own advice before OPD (Ornament Placement Disorder) ruined another holiday tradition in our home. Maybe your family can relate?

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Dear Melissa of Christmas Past,

Listen, girl. I have seen our future holidays and the scene isn’t good. We are going to be one lonely holiday decorator if we don’t get a grip.

ornament placement disorder

STOP being all crazy uptight about how the ornaments look on the Christmas tree. Let your husband and your kids put the dang ornaments where ever it pleases them and stop micromanaging the arrangement. Yes, it is more pleasing to the eye for things to be evenly spaced. And I totally agree that it makes more sense for Mary to hang next to Baby Jesus instead of where your kids keep putting her. I am also well aware that you hate that stupid, ugly pizza guy ornament that your husband insists on hanging dead center, but seriously. WHO CARES???

As a result of our Ornament Placement Disorder, you will rearrange everyone’s work after they go to bed and only teach them not to enjoy holiday tree decorating with you. Melissa of Christmas Past, please hear me. You are sucking all the joy out of trimming the tree, sweetie. So now I am stuck fluffing this dumb artificial tree by myself very year. Get a hold of yourself, for the sake of all that is merry and bright!

stupid pizza guy

And by the way… the stupid pizza guy ornament? Yeah, the one that you try to hide in the bottom of the ornament box every year? Turns out we actually love that ornament now. It has great sentimental value to us, and we hang it in front on the center branch. Right where it should be. Ironic and unexpected, I know.

Take a deep breath and exhale. Try to be more gentle with yourself. More patient. More forgiving. You know, we really are doing a good job despite what we sometimes believe.

Love, Melissa of Christmas Present

Image by Thanks for your Like • donations welcome from Pixabay.

Searching for hope in our weary world.

by Melissa Holderby on category ,

I have to be up front and honest with you. I haven’t posted to the blog in a few weeks because I haven’t been able to write a single word. Not one syllable. A small part of that problem has been simply logistics with my own lack of time and energy. The bigger part, however, has been what some may call “writer’s block”. I would actually call it “fear that I don’t have adequate words”. You see, I started the thankful bee primarily to serve as a light of encouragement to folks who may be troubled or hurting. And frankly, I haven’t even been able to encourage MYSELF lately, let alone any of you. I certainly haven’t felt qualified to guide anyone searching for hope in our weary world. So, I haven’t written any new content recently. Until tonight.

The Christmas Cave

Tonight I took all three of my kids to The Christmas Cave, about two hours south-east from where we live. It’s basically a self-guided holiday light display in the passageways of an underground white gravel mine. Inside among the twinkling lights, decorated Christmas trees and pillar candles lining the dimly-lit path are displays depicting the historical moments surrounding the birth of Jesus. For added atmosphere, holiday music is featured in each area.

I wanted to be in the moment. Truly, I did. I wanted to just relax and enjoy being out with all three of my kids for the first time in a long time. Except I honestly wasn’t. Nope. I was preoccupied with everything weighing on my heart. Burdens with names like “overdue” and “overdrawn”. “Quarantine.” “Loneliness.” “Worry.” Maybe you are acquainted with some of those as well?

Squeaks and stumbles.

One thing that really struck me hard as I walked along that underground gravel path was Luke‘s reaction to the whole event. He was so excited to see the Christmas decorations, and the way the candlelight on the cave walls made our shadows look ten feet tall. He was especially drawn to the lights on the garlands and trees. Luke desperately wanted to walk the entire mile-long trail, his little chilly hand in mine, pointing and making happy squeaks. It didn’t matter to him that his pace was so slow or that he stumbled in the gravel. No, he just wanted to absorb it all.

But Luke’s squeaks and his stumbles were a painful reminder to me that my sweet, joyful little boy has extra struggles to overcome. In the dark of that underground mine, I felt a familiar sting in my heart. A hurt that despite all of my education as a pediatric therapist, and all of the professional help we consume each week, and all of the resources I have scoured, Luke still struggles. He still doesn’t speak. And he still doesn’t walk without falling. And the road ahead of him seems to stretch way out over the horizon where I can’t clearly see his triumphant victory over his earthly disability.

What a contrast Luke and I were in that moment in the Christmas Cave. Each of us putting one foot in front of another to travel along our candle-lit journey. Except my heart was troubled, and his heart was wide with wonder.

And then it happened.

O, Holy Night.

We got to the part of the path with the scene depicting immediately after Jesus’ birth. I pointed out baby Jesus to my baby Luke, and do you know what Luke did? He waved. My squeaking, stumbling little boy waved to baby Jesus.

Oh my goodness, friends, I got tears in my eyes. And I became acutely aware of the familiar Christmas carol playing in the cave at this moment – O, Holy Night. The line from the song goes, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…”

Yes! I am weary, inside and out! All those burdens I called by name earlier? They recently have worn me clear down to a nub. In fact, the entire planet seems to be searching for hope in our weary world.

A thrill of hope.

God broke through my darkness in that underground gravel mine. And He wants to break through your darkness, too. So, He sent a baby. A very special baby. Born in a cave. So that I can have hope. YOU can have hope. The entire weary world can have hope.

And even with the loud clamoring of all of my worries, I can rejoice. I can celebrate my future even if I can’t see it. Luke’s future. The world’s future.

So you see, tonight I got a tender reminder. Tonight I was gently reminded that I don’t have to know all the answers. I don’t have to have a battle plan thoroughly worked out. And I don’t even have to have adequate words. And neither do you. Perhaps all we need is one small flicker of LIGHT in our darkness. One tiny speck of HOPE in our corner.

Keep walking along your gravel path, friend. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, even on the days you feel weary. If all you can manage is a squeak and a stumble, do it. We aren’t meant to languish, searching for hope in our weary world. HOPE has come. HOPE is here.

About the Author Melissa Holderby

Wife. Mother. Friend. Daughter. Sister.
Spiritual warrior. Outgoing introvert.
A beautiful mess.

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