While I can be as gentle as a lamb, I am also known for my bulldog tenacity in certain circles.

Like wind and water on granite, I just wear things -- and sometimes people -- down. Or I'll push against a perceived obstacle until one of us falls.

This is not always a good quality nor is it particularly en-dearing.

I may be mellowing with age. Or, perhaps, I'm finally learning.

James was right to caution us against being too bold in making our future plans, admonishing us to always to temper our plans with the codicil "If the Lord wills..." (James 4:15)

Because sometimes, he doesn't.

The plan was a good one. I reserved my time off months ago. Everyone, you see, was supposed to be there. And we would be in the thick of things. For once, we'd have plenty of time. Time to sip coffee around various kitchen tables. Real conversations, delving deeper, without the tyrant of time hovering over every word, would finally be possible.

One more time, we would bask in the soft glow of Christmas lights festooning a tree sheltering scores of brightly wrapped packages while the phone was passed from one ear to another, holiday greetings repeated.

It was not to be.

We first suspected that our well laid plans would come to naught on the road home from Kearney after baby Lucas made his appearance in our world. The trip was uneventful until we reached Indianola. It took another hour to limp the car home that final 10 miles. The car has been grounded ever since. It is not allowed outside the city limits until repairs can be made.

Then, instead of extra income, unexpected bills arrived. A new motor for the furnace. A gas bill increase. The water bill failing to fall to expected winter lows.

Adding it all up leads us to one simple conclusion. The trip was off.

Experience has been a good teacher. We knew we were facing an immoveable force. And we have learned not to push too hard. Because experience has also proven to be a harsh taskmaster at times. And pushing too hard has led to more than one disaster.

Because experience has been a good teacher, we have learned something else. God is good. And when God says no, we have learned that it is always the best possible answer.

Do we know why God said "No"? No. And that is no longer important.

It will be quiet at our house this year. We'll no doubt miss the cleverly decorated tree at Mom's, and the barely contained pandemonium when it is finally time to release the presents from their beribboned wrapping paper, but we won't miss hauling out the resulting bags of trash, tripping over new toy trucks or hand-washing the dishes that served more than 20 hungry people.

Instead we'll bask in quiet solitude, with more than a week of sleep undisturbed by the beep, beep, beep of the alarm clock, thereby renewed and refreshed to face the new year. We will take note of the treasures that we'll find in our own four walls and we will be thankful.

However you spend your Christmas this year, whether in quiet or chaos, take special note of the tresures. Take note of the treasures that shine -- a smile, a warm embrace, love, forgiveness, mercy and peace. And be sure to do this one thing. Give more than you can ever receive, on Christmas Day and every day.

"But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and thieves do break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will also be." Matthew 6:20, 21

Things you won't see in heaven: Alarm clocks