Christmas from a Carol (a little late)



Advent Wreath

I know...Christmas was over like 3 weeks ago.  Well, I'm posting this anyway...just because I want to.  Actually, I need to.  I feel proud of the Christmas we had.  It wasn't the easiest...or the grandest...or the most present-filled, generously gifted Christmas--by no means.  In fact, we found ourselves extremely short of money this year.  So much that on some days preceeding it, I wondered how we were going to get presents under the tree at all.  In fact, this year everything was going wrong.  My pre-lit Christmas tree was no longer lighting...every bulb save about 15 or 20 was out; my Christmas music was stuck on a laptop which had a distroyed screen and I couldn't retrieve it or pay anyone to do it for me;  I lost my favorite Christmas Cookie Cookbook; and my small tree that we received as a gift, which we use as a sort of advent calendar, was broken.  I had no money to remedy any of these things, and my Christmas Spirit was waning.

What did it matter anyway?  I had to work both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  It was hopeless.

One day, I was watching the Martha Stewart Show, and she had as guests, a mens accapella choir singing traditional Christmas carols.  It was all quite festive with sparkling Christmas sweaters and trees on the set, allaborately decorated.  Everyone bubbling over with appropriate cheer.  Right in the middle of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" I spilled over into a grovelling tear fest.  I am ashamed.

I sat down and tried to figure out why in heaven's name was I crying?  What I came up with was that Christmas, to me, is a time when...well.... all is calm, all is bright.  And I wasn't feeling calm and bright.  I was feeling anxious and gloomy.

My husband always complains when I start playing Christmas music, sometimes as early as November 1st.  To him, Christmas is a time of stress and hassle.  To me, it's always been the most...well...wonderful time of the year.  My memories of Christmas were always some of the best memories I had as a child...and even coming home from college.  It was a time where everyone came away from their stressful lives and just stopped and we all had a chance to just be happy...and Christmas made everything OK...and even magical. My parents always made it feel that way.  If ever they were stressed because of Christmas, it was not shown to us in any light.  And I'm really grateful for that. 

And they taught us what we were celebrating...above all...the reason we did these things was because this was the time to celebrate the birth of our Lord.  And that was made very clear.

So, there I was, crying, listening to that choir end that carol and start to sing, "Here We Go A Wassailing" and came to this realization:  everything I went over in my mind of what Christmas meant to me...what feelings I remembered from growing up... none of them had anything to do with presents.  It was family, tradition, love, and...Jesus.  I was emphasizing the wrong things.  And my kids knew that too.

That day, I went to my cupboards and pulled out some old candles, took my wreath off my door, and put together a make-shift Advent Wreath.  I placed it on the very first surface one see's when entering our home, and that evening my kids and I sat down and they learned what it was.

Basically, if you don't already know (but a lot of Christians don't), its a wreath with 5 candles...four in a circle and one in the middle.  Often the circle includes 3 purple candles that represent Christ's royalty, and one pink candle that represents the celebration of his coming.  One candle is lit each week starting four weeks before Christmas with the pink on the last week.  On Christmas day the middle white candle is lit to signify that Christ has come.  Celebrate! (Click on the link below the picture of the Advent Wreath above to read a really good explanation of what Advent means.)

So with my mind re-directed, my husband supporting me, and my kids just being their sweet selves, we had Christmas.  I came home after working all night on Christmas morning and as soon as I walked in the house we started festivities.  The Christmas story was read and the Christ candle was lit.  And what do you know!  God provided money for some presents for the kids.  Here we are around the dimly-lit tree and the Advent Wreath.

Our bibles are open on the coffee table in the pic on the left and the advent wreath is in the corner in the pic on the right.  (Please excuse the very unbecoming picture of my dog.) Wait!  Hold up!  Is that?.....

Why yes it is! There's my boys touching each other in an actual "brotherly" way!  Rare.  Usually they're wrestling, pushing, or pinging the other in the face with a football.  Humph! 

So, we opened the presents...

 

That bottom right picture...that's the Cookie Monster hat my son has been asking for for two years now.  I never could bring myself to buy it but...he's so happy...never takes it off.  (I'm shaking my head in surrender.)



Then my dear husband made breakfast for us.  Yes!  I did say my HUSBAND MADE BREAKFAST on Christmas morning.  Set the table and all.  He even put little apple slices on the rims of our glasses filled with sparkleing apple juice.  That man is so sweet.  Then he sent me to bed and cleaned up all by himself too.  That's the kind of man he is.

When I got up, he had the table set again and served a very elegant ham and potato Christmas dinner before I had to leave for work.  Very impressive.  He even had pie and ice cream. 

Since I worked Christmas, but had New Years off, my parents came down on New Years Eve.



We had a great time with Grandpa and Grandma.  Grandpa even took my dog on a nice winter walk while Grandma played board games with the kids.  And we talked...

And talked....





And had coffee and my husband talked some more!  Just kidding dear husband!  Love to hear you talk!  In fact that was one of the things that first made me fall in love with you.

And I am humbled, and tired...and have learned that God teaches us at the time when we are ready to learn...sometimes that means we have to go through some low places.  And then those places end up being the most special.





My Dear Son's Big Week

This week has been a whopper for my dear son #2. 

For a lot of you who don't know him, he's a shy one...well sort of...except when he is happy...which lately is all the time.  He told me last night that in preschool he never spoke to another kid...ever.  You wouldn't know it now.  How would I describe him now?  He pretty much acts the way he wants to.  In fact, the saying, "I really don't care what you think of me.  I don't think about you at all," describes how he feels about people who disapprove of him.  (I think that quote came from Coco Chanel.  Correct me if I'm wrong.)  I wish I could be more like him.

Here's him being happy

He's the one on the top.  Pretty typical.  (That's his twin brother on the bottom...another post for another day.)

Here he is being "cool."

Or rather this...

Isn't he handsome?  (Both of the above pics he took of himself.  Love him.)

Well, after saying he wanted to play the drums for most of his early years, naturally, the first day of band he came home and said without a doubt, "Mom, I want to play the trumpet."

So he does...very well.  He practices every day without fail with no prompting from Mom and Dad.

(My dog Maverick doesn't seem to mind loud, obnoxious, blaring, blasting noises.  Hmmm...)

He plays so well, in fact, that he was invited into the Honor Band for his school; an honor only 2 6th graders were worthy of (no, I don't like to brag at all.)  The other honoree was his best friend who plays the flute.  (Apparently a new trend for boys since the Beboping Flautist came along.)

Anyhoo, two days ago, we went to an event I've only been waiting for since the day he was born...or soon after...his very first band concert.  Honor Band no less...

That's him in the 3rd row to the left of the middle...yes, you can hardly see the dear boy.  He's playing Silver Bells.  (I had to restrain myself very hard from shouting out, "Play to me, Son!  Play to me!"  He has no idea how lucky he is.)  When he came home he said to me, "Did you hear me Mom?  I was playing really loud just for you."  (Aw...I guess I didn't need to shout it after all.)

And then there was yesterday.  I had the distinct pleasure of attending his school assembly where they recognized my son as being a student of high academic achievement.  (Yes, he's on the Honor Roll.)  So proud.  Here he is getting his award.

Yes, he's the smaller boy...small, but HUGE in personality and talent you better believe!

And what was his award do you ask?  Well, let's just say that I finally have one of these:

Thanks son! 

Congratulations!  And I love you!

Happy 4th

My kids and I have a little running joke.  We have those "what else is going to happen!" days.  When we have bad days, it seems it lasts ALL day...it keeps going and going... Unfortunately, the 4th of July was looking as if it was turning out to be one of those days. 

It started off OK.  I got up and made coffee...which always makes for a proper start of the day.  I heard my husband grumble because the ice cubes were watery.  Oh, one of the kids left the freezer door open, darn it.

We were excited because our neighborhood has a little bike parade for the kids.  Everybody meets up at the end of our Circle with their bikes, wagons, strollers...anything with wheels...all decked out in Ole' Glory colors to show their American pride.  Then they all ride to the end of the street, about 1/4 mile, to the park where we serve cookies and lemonade.  It's cute.  Perfect opportunity to fire up the ol' John Philip Sousa marching tunes billowing from my bay window as people walked up to line up at the end of the street.  (And people liked it I might add.)  (Thanks Daddy, for making me love John Philip Sousa.)  (And yes, it is a station on my list for Pandora.com.)

So we spent some time getting ready.

And as you can see, my kids take this very seriously. 

The morning was overcast.  Not many people out.  Maybe they're all at church (like we should be.)  And there's a politician who made a booth at the park.  That's certainly a first.  And my dog jumped up on his wife. (snicker snicker)

Well, it was time to start the food.  I came home, happily excusing myself from my very talkative new friend at the park, and went to take out the hamburger.  The very warm and leaky, bloody hamburger.  My fridge was not just left open.  It was fried...and had been.  The light was on, the motor running, so nobody noticed that it wasn't working.  All my food was thawed, warm, and decomposing.  Dripping meat leaked out over the condiments, even my homemade peach jam.  There was very little salvageable.  We lost almost all our food.

And lunch was going to come out of a can, I guess.

We were OK.  We're strong.  We're still going to have a great day.  Don't let the kids see you sweat!  I pulled together lunch with some canned beans, creamed corn, and scraped together borrowed burgers and hoped that Ketchup doesn't have to be refridgerated because I can't have a burger without Ketchup.

We did it!

Yeah!

And then I went and looked at my flowers...

...because Petunias always make me happy.  Especially these.

And then it rained.

And rained.

And rained.

And then the sky turned grayer, and it rained, and then the wind blew, and it rained, and all our decorations blew down...

...and it rained.

I decided I better see if the city would cancel the fireworks show tonight.  The news said click the website, the website said call the number, and the number was busy.  For hours.  The show was scheduled to start at 9:15, so at 8:15 I called again for about the 50th time, still busy. 

"So are we going?" Andrew came to ask me as I sat on my chair on the front porch sadly.  I was so excited to take my kids to the live fireworks show.  They've never been at the actual place where they shoot them off.

"Honey, I don't think they will have it in this weather."  My daughter started crying.  Then I started crying because I couldn't stand seeing her so disappointed.

"Well," my husband suggested, "we can drive over there and just see."  We started gathering our sweatshirts and blankets and getting ready, just in case.

But then my husband says, "I think I hear mortars...yeah...I think they're firing them off."

We went up to the upstairs window, and sure enough, the city was firing off the fireworks 45 minutes early!  Without us!  How was anyone supposed to know that they were going to be early!  We couldn't get through to the information sources!  Ooooo I was so upset.  So, yes, I cried.  And everyone was sad.

But this couldn't be the end of our holiday.  No.  We all jumped in the car and headed down to the park we were at this morning, where we could glimps the fireworks between two houses obtructing a full view.  Dave and I sat in the car while the kids stood out in the pouring rain...and we watched the beautiful fireworks together.

And when it was done, we all had smiles on our faces, and satisfied celebratory appetites.  And it was OK.

So we headed to the store, bought stuff for root beer floats, and came home and played games.  Apples to Apples, Junior.  Very cool.

So as I write this,  the neighborhood boys are all out on the street lighting off fireworks that they couldn't light off last night.  Its the one day of the year where their boyhood yearnings are fulfilled and they are allowed to play with fire.

And I contemplate, when life gives you lemons, make root beer floats...or something like that.

Music Education

I was sitting at the computer today with my daughter browsing through iTunes listening to some old music from my high school days and came across Home Sweet Home by Motley Crue. When I played a sample of it my daughter looked at me disgusted and said, "That's Carrie Underwood's song!" Now, I like Carrie Underwood just fine but this made me groan a bit. Give credit where credit is due. I had to educate her on 80s hair bands. Her response: "Mom, is that a girl or a boy singing?" with her nose wrinkled in disapproval. I could only shake my head. Those of us who grew up in the 80s are a breed of our own...no one else will ever understand.

Later, I overheard her singing, "One...twenty one guns..." Greenday? How does my daughter know Greenday? Then, "...It's gonna be a good night..." Black-Eyed Peas? OK she's seven! I don't play her this stuff! Are other 2nd graders really in to these bands? Its when she was singing, "...Apple-bottom jeans..." That's one we can't let slide.

I think I need to play her more "Bullfrogs and Butterflies."

Quote of the Day: My Life Without My Kids

Here's the conversation that I had with my daughter today:

"I sure do love you, honey."
"I love you too, Mommy."
"In fact, I don't know what my life would be like without you!"
"I know, it would be a disaster!" she said with her hands on her hips and head cocked.

She's right!

The Weight of Spring

There was a Robin in the yard today. Just like every year around this time I can count on my Robin friend to mark the moment that spring is officially upon us. So what does this mean? It means its time to start my seeds for my garden. It means I better clean up the yard. It means my kids will be home for the summer soon, so I better get prepared. It means Easter dresses, white shoes, grass stains, flip flops, and pastel-colored candy. It means lilacs, meadow larks, lawn chairs, evenings on the porch, and daylight at the kids’ bedtime.

It also means that I’m turning 36. I’m on the down slope of my 30’s, gaining momentum as I plummet into my 40’s. I’m overweight by an amount that I won’t disclose. My finances are…well…messy. And I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I find myself quite depressed on this happy spring day.

But God, speaking to me through a silly radio commercial, has reminded me of something. While I’m tempted to grovel in self pity and dread of the future, and pray demands at God for the things I think I need—and for the way I want things to be; I’m reminded that the only thing that matters at all is what God wants for me. It’s all about His plan for me…not mine. I need to get over myself. God did not put me on this planet just so that I could be happy. He put me here to carry out his purposes. If I’m living inside His plan, then life in all its abundance will happen. (Kind of like the way life comes out in all its abundance in the spring.)

So, I’m anxious to see what kind of “spring” God has in store (especially today when it’s a little harder to see.) I’m thankful for what I have. In times of hardship in the world around me I have a very stable job. My friends are dealing with troubled relationships and divorce, and I have a husband who loves me. I have three children who inspire me every day, and bring me more joy of life than I could ever have imagined before God gave them to me. And I have a great God that I have the privilege to serve.

Revelations of a Little Girl

Last night when I was putting the kids to bed, I had a very interesting conversation with Rachel. I was reminded of the simple logic of a 7-year-old's mind. This is how it went:

"Momma? Jesus lives in my heart, right?"
"Well, yes honey, He sure does."
"I don't feel him in there." she said as she put her little hand over her chest.
"No, honey, He doesn't live in the heart that pumps your blood...He lives in the heart that makes you who you are. You know the part of you that makes you special and different from everyone else. That's your soul, or your spirit."
I could see the wheels turning in her head.
"Well then how come when I go to sleep He makes me have bad dreams?"
"No, bad dreams don't come from Jesus, honey, they come from the devil...or when we let ourselves think bad thoughts." When I saw the wheels turning again, I went on, "Just pray to Jesus and ask him to help you think about things that are good, and to take away the bad dreams."

After we prayed together, I kissed her goodnight, and turned out her light. It struck me as I went on with my evening how great God is...that in all His might, and with all the things that He does even to hold together the Universe...that He is still concerned with a little girl's heart, and a little girl's dreams.

15 minutes

We got through it! The boys and I worked together and finished a school project (X2). We "manufactured" 75 little craft projects (total 150) for their economics unit that they are completing this week. We cut, sewed, filled, and packed it all up; and the boys were so excited about their finished "products" that they would now have to market and sell to their classmates. Wow, I don't remember ever studying economics in 3rd grade...school is different nowadays. First new math, and now this.

All right, so what's next? Christmas with the Long side of the family...wonderful time. Everything was beautiful and special. It was so important to me, but it was all I could do to get the sleep I needed to be congenial. Sleep? Not with the shopping that needed to be done, the packaging, the cooking... I loved doing it all, don't mistake me! Working nights, I've learned that its never too late at night to go out and shop! And I couldn't forsake the housework...well... I have to set priorities. And then its right back to work for three 12-hour shifts of pure chaos.

I stumbled into the house this morning after working all night and it wasn't until then that my children reminded me of the day of the week: Saturday. Oh my...the kids are out of school for Christmas break! Their Christmas parties were yesterday! I didn't even remember until it had already been over for an entire day! What kind of mother does that? No presents for their teachers. No treats made for their parties. Luckily my dear husband had remembered...he sent bagged Christmas candy with Andrew. He saved the day.

Completely defeated, I said to Andrew, "Your party was yesterday!"
"Yeah." he replyed numbly.
"Did you feel bad that you didn't have a present for your teacher?" I asked with regret and guilt. I had already missed the "Parents' Economic Night" the evening before due to having to be at work. Again, Dad saved the day and was there.
He grimaced for a moment contemplating his answer, "Well, this year she actually opened them at the party."
"Really?" I said, feeling sick to my stomach.
"Yeah," he went on, "but she liked the chocolate I brought for the class."

Bless his little heart.

How in the world do other mothers do it? Their houses are emaculate. Their children are clean and pressed. They do all the committees, all the parties, work, cook, entertain, and maintain an attractive body weight, and never disappoint their children! I feel like I can't even keep my head above water sometimes. Even though I doubt that the kids will be permanently damaged by not having gifts for their teachers, I have to wonder about the example I'm setting for my children.

How can I teach them to be organized when its something that I myself struggle with every day? (OK, that's hard to just come out and admit.) I am contantly having to explain why they have to clean their rooms while my own looks like a hurricane came through. It hit me one day, I have to do it too!

So, I have to be honest with my children: Mom is learning how to be organized just like you are. We'll learn it together.

One of my favorite web sites is Flylady.net. She advises that "...you can do anything for 15 minutes." What she is talking about is that no matter how big your project is, or how messy your house is, or how much you really don't want to clean that bathroom, just do it for 15 minutes and then take a break. Work on it for 15 minutes at a time and don't be overwhelmed by the entire task. I was skeptical at first, but I'm finding some success in this approach.

So, 15 minutes at a time, my children and I will make changes in our lives...and I can pray that in spite of me, the Lord will help my children to learn good habits...and not follow the example that I sometimes set.