Colors of Christmas

I love all the colors of Christmas:

• Stained glass windows in churches
• The many colorful lights that adorn trees and houses
• Red poinsettias and holly berries, red velvet dresses on little girls in the Christmas program and red bow ties on choirboys
• Pine green Christmas trees and wreaths, shiny green holly leaves, and powdery green mistletoe
• Silver tinsel, silver bells, icicles, moonbeams reflecting on new fallen snow, and stars twinkling in the deep blue of the nighttime sky 
• Gold ornaments and ribbons on gaily wrapped gifts
• Purple mountains and purple robes on  the Wise Men
• Pure white snow that transforms the dreary landscape into a glistening winter wonderland

All those colors inspired me to write this poem:

COLORS OF CHRISTMAS

Silver stands for our redemption,

purchased at great cost.

Red stands for the blood of Jesus,

shed to save the lost.

White stands for the purity of our 

robes of righteousness;

Washed white as snow by Jesus' blood,

we stand in holiness.

Green stands for our Christian growth;

to feed on God's Word is a must.

Blue stands for our loyalty to Christ

in whom we trust.

Purple stands for His majesty;

King of kings is He.

Gold stands for the heavenly place

He has prepared for me.

by AnnaLee Conti

As you enjoy all the colors this Christmas, I pray that you will experience the myriad facets of the Light of the World, JESUS, whose birth we celebrate at Christmas.

Merry Christmas! 

Update on Footsteps of Faith: 

Due to the pandemic, the publication is taking a bit longer than I had hoped. The projected released date is now late January 2021. 

The Oak and the Ivy

Our travels this year have been limited to trips to the doctors, to Newburgh to visit our son and pick up packages (our mail is delivered to a box at the front of our manufactured homes park, so we must pick up packages at the post office, which we want to avoid during this pandemic), and to the Commissary at West Point, where the military police monitor social distancing, etc. Occasionally, we take a short drive locally.

A few days ago, Bob and I drove south from Newburgh along the Hudson River past West Point, across the Bear Mountain Bridge, and north on the east side of the river to our home in the Town of Fishkill. We love the fall. We were looking for color but found little change yet.

Then I spotted some rich red color entwining the trunks of some of the still-green trees--poison ivy, the first color to appear in fall in our area. 

A chorus we'd sung often in church during my childhood suddenly popped into my mind. I hadn't sung it in years, but the words flowed quickly:

He's the Oak, and I'm the Ivy

He's the Potter, I'm the Clay

He's the Oil, and I'm the Vessel

I'm the Traveler, He's the Way

I'm the Flower, but He's the Fragrance

I'm the Lamp, but He's the Flame

He's the Words I sing to Music

I'm the Bride who bears His Name!

Who can begin to put into words all that Jesus is to the believer? Metaphors help. 

As a writer, I love metaphors. Perhaps that's why I love these lyrics so much. These metaphors give wonderful insights into our relationship with Him. He is our all in all.

Oak trees are strong and solid. Jesus is strong, and we can depend on Him at all times.

The nature of any ivy is to cling. It entwines around tree trunks, climbs up the sides of houses and even up telephone poles, and hangs from wires that cross roadways. 

Poison ivy gives a nasty rash. Our son had such a severe case of poison ivy poisoning in high school that he needed steriod treatments. 

Not all ivies are poisonous. In fact, common ivy, often a house plant, was a symbol of love and friendship in Europe in medieval times and was once traditionally given to newlyweds by their priest. Perhaps that is why many bridal bouquets contain ivy. 

Like ivy clinging to the oak tree, the older I grow, the more I cling to Jesus. Sometimes life has been quite difficult, but Jesus has never failed me yet.

What is your favorite metaphor for what Jesus means to you?

Coming Soon!

 

Footsteps of Faith Cover Reveal

Here is the cover for my upcoming book, Footsteps of Faith, my faith-building memoir of God's direction, provision, and protection in my life.

Topics include

1. My parents' testimony of traveling from Pennsylvania to Alaska with two toddlers on $15.00 in 1948.

2, Growing up in a missionary family in Alaska in the fifties and sixties where I became aware of my Creator at a young age and learned to trust God to supply all my needs

3. How the Great Alaska Earthquake affected my life  

4. How my husband's experiences in Vietnam led him into full-time ministry

5. How I overcame fear    

6.  How I became a writer and an ordained minister

7. How I learned and grew through life’s challenges

Here are three introductory paragraphs from the Introduction of Footsteps of Faith:

"My story began long before I was born--from French Huguenot martyrs in 1685, whose sole surviving son immigrated to William Penn's colony in American for religious freedom. The limbs of his family tree are filled with missionaries and ministers seeking to spread the Word of God our ancestors gave their lives to protect.

"My maternal grandmother, Florence LeFevre Personeus, gave me a navy blue, hardbound book entitled The Pennsylvania LeFevres. 'This is the genealogy of my family dating back to 1510 in France, compiled by my father, George Newton LeFevre.'

"The lists of names inside reminded me of the genealogies in the Bible, which I usually skipped so I could devour the exciting stories. The book didn't look too interesting until she showed me a picture in it of the LeFevre Family Bible. Smoothing her snow white pouf of hair that framed her delicate features, she related the unforgettable story of the wife of Abraham LeFevre and mother of Isaac, our first American ancestor, who baked the family Bible in a loaf of bread..."

Today, this Bible can be viewed upon request at the Lancaster County Historical Society

and is one of the most requested items from the collection. This Bible belonged to the French Huguenot family of Isaac LeFevre. Sixteen-year-old Isaac survived the massacre after the Edict of Nantes was revoked in 1685 and was able to smuggle the Bible out of France as he escaped with the Ferree family. I was privileged to view it in person on one of my visits to Lancaster County.

My prayer is that the story of my life will encourage and build your faith in God.

Look for further announcements about my soon-to-be released book in the coming weeks. 

Coming Soon!

FOOTSTEPS OF FAITH

The Faith-Building True Story of God’s Direction, Provision, 

and Protection in the Life of the Granddaughter of Charles and 

Florence Personeus, Pioneer Missionaries to Alaska

by

AnnaLee Conti

Growing up in a missionary family in Alaska, AnnaLee became aware of her Creator at a young age. From her parents’ and grandparents’ example of living by faith, she learned to trust God to supply her every need.

The devastating Good Friday Earthquake of 1964 brought AnnaLee and her husband together when she transferred to the University of Alaska Fairbanks on an earthquake-relatedness scholarship. Bob Conti planned a military career. His testimony spans three continents—from a tree in Greece to a dark night in Alaska to a bloody battlefield in Vietnam.

Through a historic flood in Fairbanks, a fear-filled tour in Vietnam, and an Army assignment in Rhode Island, God directed the Contis’ footsteps into full-time ministry in New York State. The author shares their journey in this exciting sequel to Frontiers of Faith.

Author Bio:

An ordained minister, author, and teacher, AnnaLee Conti earned her B.A. at the University of Alaska Fairbanks and her M.A. at the Assemblies of God Theological Seminary. She served as Minister of Christian Education and Music in their churches and teaches Bible and theology to ministerial students. For 25 years, she wrote many articles, stories, and curriculum for Gospel Publishing House and has published Frontiers of Faith and the Alaskan Waters Trilogy of historical Christian novels.

* * * * *

It's been several months since I've been able to write on my blog. After dealing with my health concerns and getting my manuscript off to the publisher, my internet connection became very unreliable. Every time I sat down to write something, it would be off. Then for a week, we lost all internet, cable T.V., and telephone. Last Friday, a technician finally came to fix it and discovered that the cable from the pole to our house was damaged. It has been replaced, and everything is working normally again.

Above is the announcement that my newest book is coming soon. The above is the back cover copy. I'll post a picture of the cover in a few weeks.

They Killed My Son Today!

They Killed My Son Today!

When my son was young, the agony Mary must have experienced watching her Son die on the cross became very real to me, and I wrote this story. On her bed that night, how she must have been haunted by His suffering as she relived that awful day !

They killed my son today! I pound my pillow trying to expend my rage. Angry tears pour down my cheeks.

"Crucify him! Crucify him!" That's all I can hear. I clamp my hands over my ears, yet still I hear their yells.

Just last week the crowd wanted to crown him king. Today, they shouted for his blood. How fickle they are! His trial was a mockery of justice. And Judas--one of his closest friends. How could he betray him?

John has been so kind. The house is quiet now. But this stillness only seems to magnify the sickening thud of the hammer driving those spikes into his hands and feet. Oh, God, will I ever be free of those sounds?

His hands. I held those baby hands, and the fingers closed tightly around mine. Those small boy hands patted my arm so gently when I had a headache. Those young man hands became calloused working in the carpenter shop with Joseph. Those manly hands blessed the little children, healed blind eyes, raised the sick, multiplied the loaves and fish. They never did anything wrong. Why would they pound rusty nails into those loving, kind hands?

His feet. I remember his first steps. Joseph had just come in and Jesus, forgetting himself in his pleasure of seeing Joseph, let go of the table and tottered toward Joseph, saying, "Up! Up!" I remember listening for his footsteps each evening when he and Joseph would come home from the carpenter shop. His step was always the first to ring out on the cobblestones. He was so full of life. And now he's dead.

Oh, my son, my son! I'll never hear your gentle voice again. You'll never sit down with me after supper and tell me of your dreams. I didn't always understand what you said, but just being with you, listening, was enough.

What are these words coming into my mind? "This child will be rejected by many in Israel...And a sword will pierce your very soul." I'd nearly forgotten those words of Simeon. Is this what he tried to tell me?

Words my son spoke suddenly begin to vibrate in my soul: "I am the resurrection and the life."

Could it be? Do I dare to hope? You raised Lazarus. Do you have the power to raise yourself from the dead also?

What's this strange peace settling over me? Dawn is near. Perhaps I can sleep awhile.