God Rest You, Merry Parents

Christmas is a wonderful time to create magic for children, and to teach them to appreciate the magic that comes on its own. We had such fun gathering together as a family and working through all the joys and struggles that family life presents. Our family is unusual in that my sister married my husband's brother. (Yes, that's legal and not just in Kentucky.) My sister claims responsibility for the whole thing since she's the one that prayed that she and I would still share the same last name as grown-ups. The result is that we can all gather together in one house, in-laws and out-laws alike. Our separate families are beginning to truly meld into one. Last year was wonderful but this year was even sweeter as we worked our way through Christmas Adam, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Our faith journey was tentative this year, because everyone is working through our study of Catholicism. We attended the Presbyterians' church service as a reasonable compromise, but we both found it lacking the elements we were looking for. Our connection as a family to the larger body of the faithful has become complicated in ways we never expected but that are also invigorating. We are being stretched in our appreciation of doctrine, and our understanding of Christian practice. There were other moments of faith that were easy as an old pair of blue jeans. We read the Christmas story, dressed the kids up for a nativity play and sang every Christmas carol we know--and some we didn't.
There were all those other joys too. Christmas presents--thank you, Mary, for the frying pan and Mother for the satchel--cookies, and wonderful food. I must recommend the America's Test Kitchen Cookbook. I made everything from Crab Imperial to Candied Sweet Potato Casserole, and every dish turned out perfectly. We also enjoyed the Barefoot Contessa's, Penne with Five Cheeses. Sam's Club had all kinds of ready-made treats that we enjoyed such as Blackened Salmon, cheese, and Shrimp Scampi. My sister brought Grandmother's fudge. Mother brought her famous Christmas Wreath Bread, and Mom Vi baked us five different kinds of pie--bless you for the raspberry, mmmmmmm.
Throughout it all, the children grew up. They learned about sharing toys with cousins and siblings. They learned about giving up what is yours for the benefit of others. They learned the joy of giving--thanks guys for taking the kids to the Dollar Store. They learned about the Savior. They learned to be thankful for what they have and for what they are given. I was proud of all seven of them as they grew and worshiped and ate together. May they always be blessed with such happy hearts eager to do good.

Cleaning and Scrubbing can't wait 'til tomorrow

I love that little poem about how "cleaning and scrubbing can wait for tomorrow, for babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow. So, quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm rocking my babies and babies don't keep." But it's Christmas and everyone is coming and the cobwebs need to go.

Unless I find myself moving faster than previously imagined possible this is my last post before Christmas. Merry Christmas. Remember who you are truly making preparations for and enjoy the treasure of His presence.

Blowout

You know you've been baking when you blow out your oven mitt.

The annual Christmas card

An old college beau refused to begin to date seriously until I promised that we'd still be exchanging Christmas cards into the far future, no matter the outcome. I promised, and until this year I've kept that promise. I can't send him one this year since he didn't bother sending me a forwarding address, that's ok, he hasn't kept his end of the bargain in a decade now. I wish him well, and I thank him for getting me started on a tradition I most certainly wouldn't have started on my own.
It's a strange thing to try and distill a year of family life into a card and one page newsletter. I combine the philosophical essay and the all-out brag fest into one, hopefully, interesting jumble. This year was especially difficult because the year was a rather strange one and full of rather strange happenings. In the end I played it safe, and the letter is pretty indistinguishable from the year's previous--new clip art though.
I considered skipping this year, but I've come to rely on writing out those addresses. It's satisfying to come to the end and look at the large stack of Christmas cheer ready to keep the US Post Office busy for a couple days. The feeling of keeping in touch with people as diverse as my kindergarten teacher--Hi, Miss Briggs! and my old college boyfriend--Oops. Having such a variety of people that are worth a stamp is reassuring that the world really is the optimistic place I've always expected it to be.
I'm sorry if you didn't get your card this year. It would help if you kept up with the forwarding address.

Amelia Bedelia's Christmas

No, I'm not referring to the predictably enjoyable Christmas book in the Amelia Bedelia series, Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia. I am referring to my approach to personal relationships which says that people will forgive you for almost anything if you can make a good dessert. As I've already mentioned, I have been involved in a cookie baking frenzy. The unexpected side affect of all those cookies in the freezer is a confidence in my decisions as I plan Christmas activities, menus and gifts that I wouldn't ordinarily enjoy. Everything you need to know about life you really do learn in kindergarten.
Merry Christmas to my former preschool/kindergarten students by the way. I'd love to hear from any of you that might find me here in my little corner of the world-wide web.

Finding my Temper

Often we talk about losing our temper, but lately I've been busy finding mine. I've had a tendency to deny that I've been injured, and so I've been carrying around the anger that results from injury without any way of acknowledging and dealing with it. The result has been a low grade anger that seems merely a product of a crabby temperament. The more I explore my conscience and all the mismash of things that I've had in there as guides for my understanding of life and morality, the more I am discovering these injuries and thereby finding a home for my temper.
"Ahhh, that's why I'm so upset," I find myself saying over and over. This of course makes possible the requisite forgiving and releasing of the anger. Pretending that my life has been perfect most certainly does not make it so, and recognizing and dealing with its imperfections seems to be the fastest way to inner peace. I thought that by denying that people I love have hurt me I was dealing with the issue in the most charitable and Christian way, but in reality I was doing both of us harm. They weren't allowed to apologize, and I wasn't able to forgive. Life is not perfect. The people I love are not perfect. Recognizing and accepting that is actually the better way of grace.

The Weight of Glory

I am a woman who struggles with avarice when it comes to books. One of my favorite things about Kurt is his complete acceptance of my need for books. One time I was apologizing, yet again, for an expensive trip to the bookstore and he looked at me and said "But you need them." That my friends is how you know you've got a keeper. In any case, I still agonize over book purchases. Could I get this from the library? Will I want to reread it? Is this really important enough to spend book budget on?
Sometime during college, I began to notice a certain nudge from the Holy Spirit when a book wasn't an indulgence, but an important step forward in my growth. I've found that I never regret books purchased after listening to that nudge. On my day off a week or two ago, I picked up the Joy of Cooking and then enjoyed an aimless wander through the shelves at Barnes and Noble. On an end cap was an array of Lewis. I don't have a complete collection of Lewis, much as I would like one, so when the Holy Spirit nudged me to pick up The Weight of Glory I didn't waste any time agonizing. I've been so glad I listened.
First, I found myself struggling to understand the conflicts within my conscience, and then as I was reading my latest acquisition, I came across the surprisingly applicable essay "Why I am not an Atheist." The way he laid out what our conscience is and how we are to use it was tremendously helpful. Second, I was reading Transposition when I suddenly understood a friend's short story in a new and helpful way. Thirdly, sorting through my conscience had led me to my JEPD crisis, and there it was again, my issue in Lewis' collection of essays. Lewis says much the same things about the Old Testament that my new Catholic Bible says. Now that's an opinion I can trust.
It is a surprising thing to hear from the Living God in a quiet nudge, and to find obedience so overwhelmingly repaid. I wish all the little nudges were this easy to discern and obey. I would be a much better person than I am.