Peace On Earth, War at Home: Advice for Engaged Couples for Avoiding Christmas Battles

Entering marriage is like getting a new job: much of its success results from on-the-job training, but if you go into it with little or no preparation at all you will be set up to fail.

As a pastoral couple, my husband and I have had the privilege of counseling engaged couples and helping them prepare them for the ups and downs of marriage. The "Ups," of course, are wonderfully easy to navigate. But it's those "Downs" that will chart a course for marital break-up if a couple is blindsided by them. That's where pre-marital counseling comes in: it helps couples to identify and anticipate those potential conflict areas before they occur, and gives them tools to solve them before they have a chance to wreak havoc on the marriage.

One potential area for conflict in nearly 100% of all Christian marriages is one that is rarely anticipated or discussed: what to do for the holidays. Times like Christmas, which most couples assume will automatically be happy and joy-filled, can actually introduce a great deal of conflict into a marriage.

Christmas is a prime example of a holiday that's rife with tradition from start to finish. When two people with two different (sometimes vastly so) sets of traditions come together and try to celebrate Christmas as a couple, the results may be disastrous if both spouses are not prepared ahead of time. The best time to talk about Christmas traditions is before getting married, not December 1 of your first year together.

I'll use a personal example. When my husband and I got married, we decided to alternate who we would spend Christmas day with. One year it would be his parents, the next, mine. Neither side challenged us on this (which isn't the case with many newly-married couples), since his parents lived in the same town, while mine lived four hours away. It wasn't as if either set of parents could expect us to go to both homes in one day.

Where the conflict actually entered, ironically, was in the Christmas dinner menu. My in-laws always cooked a traditional holiday meal of turkey or ham, potatoes, yams, vegetables, pie, the whole works.

My family was, shall we say, a little less traditional when it came to Christmas cuisine. Having had four young children, my Mom simply decided one year that she would rather spend Christmas day enjoying the delight of her four daughters instead of spending eight hours over a hot stove. We never again ate turkey on Christmas Day. Instead, we began a new tradition. Every Christmas my Mom would serve appetizers and finger foods. There were always at least six or seven different dishes, all prepared for the most part ahead of time or store-bought. We ate buffet-style, all day long. It was the only day of the year that we were allowed to eat whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted.

The first year that we spent as a married couple with my family was wrought with a small amount of angst on my husband's part. I could almost feel his turkey withdrawals. It wasn't that he didn't like what my Mom made. He was just used to something different.

This was a conflict that we weren't fully prepared for. Fortunately, after a few years it worked itself out, and both of us came to appreciate the other's upbringing when it came to Christmas. In fact, to my surprise, my husband came to adopt my loathing of turkey-roasting on December 25, and now that we celebrate Christmas on our own with our children, we too have an all-day Christmas buffet. We often compromise by having a turkey or ham dinner for New Years, a day that is far less laden with commotion and other things that would distract from the preparing of a fancy meal.

Believe it or not, an even bigger Christmas conflict beset us when we decorated our first Christmas tree. The problem: does the tinsel go on first, or last? Doesn't every reasonable person put the tinsel on first? To tell you the truth, I can't even remember which of us said "first" and which said "last." That's because after seven or so years of fighting and tears and one of us spending the night on the couch, we compromised by dispensing with tinsel altogether. (Besides, by then we had a cat that ate the tinsel and then coughed up silver tinsel balls until Valentine's Day.)

My point is that holiday conflict creeps up in the most unexpected and trivial places. And what may seem like a ridiculous practice to one spouse may be the difference between a holly jolly Christmas and spending Christmas in the doghouse. Or longer.

So couples, before you say "I Do," go out for a nice dinner together and use these questions to get your holiday conversations going:

* What was your best Christmas?

* Who usually cooks Christmas dinner in your house?

* Who did most of the Christmas shopping in your family?

* What is/was your favorite Christmas tradition?

* When do you open your Christmas gifts (i.e. Christmas Eve or Christmas Day)?

* Whose house do you usually spend Christmas at?

* Do you usually put up a Christmas tree? If so, when? (i.e. the day after Halloween? Christmas Eve? Somewhere in between?)

* Who put the star on the tree in your house?

These conversation-starters will help spark discussion between the two of you that may reveal some things you didn't know about each other's holiday experiences.

Better yet, find a pastor, church leader or counselor who has been trained in marriage preparation. He or she will be able to help you identify issues that are potentially contentious, including those surrounding holidays.


NEXT POST: Christmas...... With Kids. (Just wait till you start celebrating your holidays with a third person!)

Confessions of a Fat Girl

Okay, you're probably looking at my picture on this blog and thinking "Fat? Yeah, right!" So maybe I look like I dine on veggie burgers more often than I dine on prime rib, but the truth is, I'm actually a fat girl on the inside.

Back up a few years to 2003. I weighed (gulp) 167 pounds and continuing to gain. I had, in fact, almost exceeded my all time weight high. While some of you are scornfully thinking that 167 pounds isn't so bad, you have to consider the package that it came in. If you're five feet nine inches tall, then 167 pounds isn't that bad. However, if, like me, you are four feet eleven inches tall, reaching 167 pounds would actually put you in the category of "obese" (believe it or not). I had been overweight for about 13 years at that point, having begun to gain weight after graduating from high school (that amounts to about 5 lbs. per year, give or take a few). Sometimes I jokingly blamed the weight on the three babies I carried, but deep down I knew I had been fat before I even got pregnant the first time.

People often like to analyze fat people, you know, try to determine why it is that they are fat. What drives a fat person to eat? Was she not loved enough as a child? Is she trying to fill some kind of an emotional need? Is there something missing in her life that she is trying to compensate for by over-eating? Ladies and gentleman, I am here to tell you that I am just not that complex a person. I ate because I REALLY liked food. That's it. I was not neglected or abused as a child. I had a great life, an adoring husband, wonderful children, a house, enough money, lots of friends, you name it. My problem was that I was addicted to food.

Maybe you can relate? And guess what... even though I lost over 40 pounds I unfortunately didn't lose my taste for food. Don't ask me how I did it... to this day I'm not sure how I managed to avoid the Doritos aisle for so long. And don't even get me started on Krispy Kreme donuts, a delicacy I still crave often (thank God the nearest Krispy Kreme is like 45 minutes away from my house or I'd probably have gained all 40 plus pounds back by now). Though I'm skinny on the outside (not Hollywood or runway model skinny, but healthy skinny) I'm still a fat girl on the inside. I know that I'm just a couple of cream puffs away from falling off the wagon, and though I've only gained back five of those pounds that I lost, I know it wouldn't take much to find my way back to obesity. Like alcohol or drug addiction, I know I will be a food addict for the rest of my life. Hello, my name is Jenny and I'm a food addict. I admit it. Do you know how hard it is to be a Pastor's wife when you're a food addict? Every Baptist gathering culminates in some sort of a food-eating ritual. We're synonymous with potlucks and other food-laden events. I can't even go to church on Sunday without walking by the pastry-strewn coffee bar in the lobby. The church is rife with temptation for the food addict, which might be unfortunate, but I don't think you can even be Baptist if you don't serve food at every event.

So, acknowledging my inner fat girl, I press onward, politely ignoring the strawberry tartlets, slices of apple pie, and fudge-covered brownies thrust in my direction. Don't be offended if I don't try your great-grandmother's famous prize-winning trifle. It's nothing personal.

(Reprinted from a previous blog.)

Pray for the Stauffers

In the small town of Edson, Alberta, Canada 14-year old Emily Stauffer was murdered as she walked along a partially wooded pathway near a quiet residential neighborhood on September 27, 2008. The beautiful, flaxen haired girl didn't stand a chance against her much larger attacker, an unknown assailant believed to be in his early thirties.

Although the attack happened in the late afternoon in broad daylight, the assailant managed to escape and vanish completely. Two young boys happened upon the scene and reported that a man jumped from the bushes and grabbed Stauffer by the throat and began choking her. The terrified boys ran to a nearby home to seek help. The stunned neighbor at first had difficulty believing the boys' story. After all, the town of 8,000 people rarely experiences violent crime. But the neighbor quickly became convinced the boys were telling the truth because she could see them "vibrating" with fear.

To date, the attack appears completely random and unprovoked. It is believed that Emily Stauffer was taken by surprise and was very quickly subdued and overwhelmed by her attacker.

It's always difficult to make sense of a seemingly senseless tragedy such as this. It becomes harder when there is a personal connection. Although we did not know the family well, my husband and I have had the privilege of working with Emily Stauffer's parents on a number of occasions. Dad Terry is the Pastor of Edson Baptist Church, a small and close-knit body of believers. Terry and his wife, Juanita work within the same organization of churches, the Fellowship of Evangelical Baptist Churches of Canada, that my husband and I work with. Terry, Juanita and family have spent years as Fellowship ministers in various churches throughout Western Canada.

Our connection to the family came when the Stauffers worked in Barriere, B.C. just a short drive from the city of Kamploops where my husband pastored for four years. The Stauffers remain connected to many people in both the Barriere and Kamloops area even though they've been away from that particular post for several years now.

The Stauffers were closely tied to Sunnybrae Bible Camp in Tappen, B.C. just west of Salmon Arm. Both Terry and Juanita served in various positions, both professional and volunteer, within the camp for many years. In fact they continued to return to Sunnybrae summer after summer even after they left B.C. for Alberta.

It is with great sadness that I write this post, in memory of Emily Stauffer and in condolence to Terry, Juanita, and their three remaining children. This news has left many communities, churches, and an entire camp in a state of shock and grief. It is with bittersweet sadness and hope that we cling to our faith in a God who chose to call His beautiful little girl Home to be with Him despite her desire to grow up, get married, have children, and pursue a degree in music. Heaven is surely a much brighter place with her shining smile casting a reflection upon the golden streets.

It is my desire that all who read this will take just a minute right now to stop and pray for the Stauffer family.

Read more about the Emily Stauffer murder.
Read Terry Stauffer's blog, including a tribute to his daughter.

Opportunity in Death

After 16 years in ministry, I think I'm only just beginning to come to understand the significance of funerals as evangelistic opportunities. Church boards, committees and ministry teams spend hours trying to come up with ways to get the unchurched and unsaved to darken the door of a church. We plan events, outreaches, dinners, musicals, kid's clubs, day camps and scores of other contrived (pardon me if that word sounds a little offensive. I hope that you'll come to see what I really mean as you read on.) Sometimes these things work, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they fail miserably to attract any crowd other than those same people who come every Sunday and come to every event simply because the church doors are open.

Yet, when people are faced with the death of a loved one, often the church is the first place they flock to. There's no cajoling or coaxing. There's no fanfare, no fancy catered dinner, no flashy program. There is simply the sudden realization that death raises questions that they cannot answer on their own. Granted, there are many who are hardened to the notion of a so-called "loving" God who would "allow" a loved one to pass away. But even they are often much more willing to listen to the plan of salvation even in the midst of misgivings and bitterness.

This year has been particularly filled with deaths of people within our own church family and extended church family. Some were prominent church members. Many were the result of tragic illnesses like cancer. One was a suicide. Others were relative unknowns to the congregation at large, but were extended family of regular church members.

Though the circumstances varied, one common denominator rang true for each one: unsaved people, some of whom had never attended church at all or hadn't considered religion in years began to reach out to clergy members for answers and a shred of hope amidst the pain and suffering. Many of these people may not ever have otherwise entered a church or questioned their own eternal destiny if not for reasons of death. It wasn't a carefully crafted and long-planned outreach event that drew them in. It was their desire to find the answer to the question of their own mortality or that of their loved ones.

Don't get me wrong. Outreaches are wonderful ways to reach out to the community. They are often successful and meet both the felt and the spiritual needs of a world in darkness. But how many times do we have opportunities to minister to large groups of seekers simply fall into our proverbial laps? Frequently, funerals make up the bulk of those unexpected and unplanned but highly effective opportunities to sow good seed in very fertile ground.

Jesus & Java

I've entitled this blog "Church Coffee....." because, well.... I bet you know what I'm talking about. Church coffee has been the butt of many a joke throughout Christendom's years (at least since the invention of the coffee maker.) It's either so watered-down you can barely distinguish it from untreated tap water, or it's so strong that you need a jack hammer to drive your little plastic stir stick into it.

No offense to you faithful volunteers who get up early every Sunday morning to come in before the rooster crows to crank up the old community coffee brewer. I complained about church coffee myself until the first time I actually had to make some for a fundraising dinner. See, at home I use one tablespoon of fine grind for every eight ounces of water. I have always done this because that's what the instructions said on the first coffee pot I ever got after my husband and I were married. It turned out a bit on the strong side, but I quickly discovered that both me and my husband preferred it that way.

So when I was assigned coffee-making duties for this particular event, I simply followed the same directions I was used to at home. I converted my tablespoons into cups and poured in enough grounds for eighty eight-ounce cups of coffee. Just before I hit the "start" button I looked at the two pounds of grounds in the basket and thought to myself, "Hmmm, that seems like a LOT of coffee grounds." But then, who am I to question the instructions of Mr. Coffee, he of the original home coffee brewing appliances?

What I failed to realize is that industrial coffee makers are different from the home variety. It turns out that two pounds of coffee grinds was a little too much after all. Having been busy with preparations for the fundraiser, I hadn't actually had time to sample my own brew. But when people began to choke and gasp and drop their coffee cups, I started to suspect that perhaps something was amiss with my recipe. I sneaked off to the coffee table and poured a cup for myself and quickly discovered that brewing coffee at home and brewing coffee at church were two completely different culinary experiences.

After the first twenty or so cups had been dispensed, word must have gotten around because the coffee table wasn't touched for the rest of the evening. At the end of the night I briefly considered pouring the remainder into my gas tank, certain it was probably strong enough to get me home and just might be the next great thing in fuel innovations.

I don't criticize church coffee anymore. Though admittedly, I still poke fun at it like everyone else. It just wouldn't be Sunday morning (or Saturday night, or some other night of the week, depending on when your particular church meets) without good old church coffee. Let's face it, how else would we all manage to stay awake through the sermon........