Christmas Every Day

Making My Home Sing is the theme for Monday hosted by the blog Moms the Word.


Monday begins the final week before Christmas.  As the countdown gets closer, kids' anticipation rises in the same proportion as their moms' anxiety.  Most of us are wondering how Christmas always sneaks up on us, no matter how early we begin our plans.  When you're a kid, it seems as if each day before the holiday is a year; as an adult, each year seems as though it were a day.  We're thinking, "didn't we just celebrate Christmas?" and the kids are already agonizing over 340 whole days until next Christmas.

I made cookie dough in October for the freezer. It's still in the freezer.  I hope to turn that dough into cookies  this week.

I usually have all the stocking items purchased and distributed into labeled brown lunch bags in the closet by the beginning of November.  I will finish shopping for the stockings this week.

I normally have stacks of presents purchased and under the tree before my husband and I do the last minute "big gift" shopping. We will do more shopping than usual this week.

I do have a lot to do, but I am looking at this Monday with peace in my heart.  I am excited about these activities and am reminding myself that I do them because I want to.  I love doing these special things with my kids and for my kids.

As I was teaching Sunday School Sunday morning, my heart was thrilled to go over the birth of Christ with my students, ages 7-9.  I was thrilled to explain EMMANUEL means "God with us."  The Lord Jesus Christ gave up the glories of Heaven and the fellowship of His Father to come to earth as a baby. He went from the King of Heaven to a baby in a manger. It was for us.  He willingly came to earth to die on the Cross for our sins. 

I know December 25th is not the day the Lord Jesus Christ was born and I know that many of the ways we celebrate the holiday don't have a lot to do with Christianity. We follow the traditions because they bring us joy, comfort, encouragement,  produce great family memories and are just plain fun.

At the grocery store, a cashier asked us if we were excited to celebrate Christmas.  My husband replied, "Yes, I am excited, but I really celebrate Christmas every day of the year."  Meaning, we love the American family traditions of Christmas, but as born-again Christians, every day we celebrate in our hearts and minds this glorious Truth - the Lord Jesus came to earth to die for our sins.

Yes, I would love to get everything done on my list of things I think would make this Christmas memorable for my family. But, more than that, I want to instill  in the hearts of my children that Christmas should be celebrated every day in their hearts, as they worship Emmanuel, the God that is with us.

Queen of Peekless Packages

When it comes to wrapping presents  I have to boast. I am Queen of Peekless Packages. I wrap in such a way that the kids can't guess what is inside by shaking, unwrapping, smelling or feeling.

Unfortunately, that's because when I was a young girl, I was the Princess of Peeking.  One year, I totally ruined Christmas for myself because I had  peeked into each package.

I begin my plot in the Fall, saving boxes for wrapping. By mid-December, I had two cupboards in the garage filled with boxes.  I save all sizes, so that every item is in a box. Things like CD's, books and clothing are too easily identified if you wrap them as they are. One little fingernail slice through the paper, and you know exactly what you're getting.

Then, I implement my best trickster techniques.  If it's something noisy, like Legos, I actually open the cellophane packages and put the legos in ziploc bags, adding something to muffle the noise.  If it is something quiet, like a sweater, I may add marbles or legos to the box to give more appeal when the kids are shaking the box.

I rub the tape with my fingernails until it is so securely attached to the paper, it cannot peal off without tearing the paper.

If the wrapping paper is see through, I wrap the package first in newspaper.

Some years, I develope a coded and put a number or a symbol on the packages instead of their names.  A few years, I just didn't put any names on the biggest gifts.  This backfired on me last year when I forgot what was in a few of the  packages and who they were for.  My hubby and I had to conference in the kitchen to ensure we correctly distributed the gifts.  This year I tagged ALL the presents with names.

If it is a very large present, I may hide it in the attic and wrap a note telling where to find the present in a very tiny box.  If it is a tiny present, I may wrap it in a big box.  I love the suspense, knowing I have really fooled my kids and kept their gifts a surprise.

When I was bragging about this  a few years ago, my oldest, Jana admitted to me, "Mom, we don't peek -  we don't even want to peek."

"You don't?  Why not?"

"It ruins the surprise of Christmas."

"Oh."

Tonight, I asked the kids if they had ever peeked at their presents.

They have shook them until the cows come home.  They have held them up to the light to see through the cheap wrapping paper I buy.  They have squished and poked and prodded and smelled.  But, they never have peeked.

Jon confessed to opening the package enough to see the back of the box was red. 

Bethany admitted she shook a package until she was convinced she was getting a fossil for Christmas.  She doesn't remember what the gift was, just the surprise that it wasn't a fossil. She did admit to peeking at her siblings' presents.

But, nobody has peeked at their own presents.

Nobody has opened a package and rewrapped it, like I did.

Nobody opened just one end of the package to see what was inside, like I did.

Nobody has "accidentally" poked a hole in a package to peek through, like I did.

Nobody has peeked in closets, under beds, and in all hiding places to peek at the presents before they were wrapped, like I did.

I am the best wrapper, because I was the worst peeker.

Since kids always love to do the opposite of what their parents do, then it is still useful for me to be the Queen of Peekless Packages, because all my grandkids will probably be peekers.

So....have you been naughty and or nice?  Did you peek?  Anybody have any Anti-peek-Techniques that I missed?

I'm a Model Without a Runway

I graciously volunteered to be a model for my daughter, Bethany,

 who is attending barbering college and needed a live model for an exam. 

Mothers are always called to show sacrificial love, aren't they?

She has been practicing on her Daddy at home,

so it was my turn.

I thought the before and after photos would be more dramatic if I didn't wear makeup.

EEWW!  This is what my poor husband has to see each morning? 

No wonder he gets up early and goes straight to work.

I also decided to not wash or comb my hair.

 Like the fact that only half my hair is curly?

Bethany asking questions about what kind of haircut I am looking for.

Basically, I wanted to keep it long as possible,

I wanted a style that didn't require upkeep

and made me look gorgeous all the time.

Yea, I know, she's a barber, not a magician.

She was so careful and gracious.

 Due to nerve damage from my last surgery,

 the bottom right side of my face is tender and painful to the touch. 

That's part of the reason I stopped getting my hair cut,

a little scrape with the comb feels like a dozer taking off the top layer.

My baby done good.

I didn't have time to put on my makeup before the next model was scheduled.

I should have put on makeup.

I am not doing the haircut justice.

All smooth and straight.

I looked so nice, my husband took me out to dinner that night.

The girls told me I looked years younger.

I cropped the picture so you couldn't see my ten-pound belt.

When I don't flat-iron it (OK, I never have, I am way too lazy and have too much to do in the morning)

the layers let the natural curl just bounce up, so with a little mousse, it looks great.

I was so pleased, the haircut fulfilled all of needs and expectations.

I am just thrilled that my daughter is doing what she likes,

likes what she is doing,

and is doing it well.

Plus, she gave me my first modeling gig.

I'm just waiting for those agents to call...

....out there somewhere is a runway with my name on it.

The Not-So-Pampered Chef

My Amazing Grace was going to make some amazing Moravian Brandy Snaps, a crispy cookie made with molasses, not brandy.

But, our molasses was nearly out.  Good thing they have that label covering the ENTIRE jar, so you never know you are nearing the end, until you are at the end. She only needed 1/4 cup more.

Her project sat and waited for me while I ran to the store for molasses.  Unfortunately, I don't have that gift of buying only what is on my list.  I grabbed a few things that I needed for Christmas baking and  a few things for dinner.  My prize was finding canned rings of pineapples for $1 to dehydrate, so I threw them in the cart.

As I approached the front of the store, I deliberately avoided the self-check station.  I decided I wanted someone to take care of me.  I wanted someone to bag my groceries and put them in my cart.  I've been so busy with holiday cooking, cleaning, shopping and planning, I opted for some pampering.

I loaded the groceries onto the conveyor belt, then looked into the face of a new cashier.  A young cashier.  A young, male cashier.  I was doubting him from the moment he scanned my first item.  I watched carefully, wondering how far into his training he was.

He seemed to be doing fine, so I pushed aside my learned grocal prejudice for young males, and rushed home, knowing Grace was still waiting for the molasses.

Jon carried the  groceries in from the car.  He came in with The Look. I knew  something was wrong before the words left his mouth.

New Mr. Cashier decided the molasses was too lonely in the bag all by its little ol' self, so he included three cans of pineapple, a jar of pepper jelly, and a few blocks of cream cheese in an extra thin plastic bag.

The molasses never had a chance.

I sent someone else back to the store for another jar, while I ran my fingers through the goo over and over, trying to pick up all the glass shards.

Jon finished the cleaning job. When the second jar of molasses arrived, Grace finished the cookies.

As we dealt with the situation, I knew the molasses was just another test, another little trial, another little way to let our faith prove bigger than our frustration.

James 1:3 tells us "that the testing of your faith produces patience."

I remember as a 18 year-old new Christian diligently praying for patience.  I prayed in faith and woke up the next morning, expecting to be a patient person.  Instead, I had a horrible day.  At the end of the day, I came home tired, crabby and frustrated.  I talked it over with my roomate, Julia, and the Lord helped us to understand that the trials were to produce the patience.  He couldn't just GIVE it out, it had to be earned and learned.

Now I understand and appreciate the benefit of trials to a believer, but I still think that next time I feel the need for some pampering, I am going to just get my nails done like normal women.

Old Enough to Dress Myself

This morning, I was nearly dressed when Rebekah walked into my bedroom.  On Wednesdays, we attend a homeschool co-op and she often wants to wear matching outfits. I love this age. But, instead of her usual cheery morning greeting, she greeted me with unusual disdain.

"You're wearing that?" She was as eloquently sarcastic as a teenager, showing me with three words and the correct inflection that I did not meet her approval.   At seven, she astonished me.  She shouldn't really be able to demean with that level of proficiency until she was at least 14.

"Yes," I replied, suddenly inwardly doubting my attire choice.  "What's wrong with this?"

"Mom, I'm gunna'  be SO embarrassed!"  I had to read her face, countenance and attitude to determine if I was going to scar her for life if I continued in the path.  When I decided it was only a battle of the wills, I dug my heels in.

With all the parental authority I could muster I stated confidently, "I have waited my whole life to be old enough to wear what I want, and I am going to wear it."

Illustrating textbook mortification she flopped on my bed with despair and said, "I'm doomed!"

She really is too mature for her age.  She shouldn't be capable of such dramatic interludes until she is at least 15.

I pulled on the final offending garment, heart myself jingle and wondered if I really should have taken a stand for my right to dress myself.  Maybe I should have gone with the matching look, instead.

(This is what happens when you try to open your eyes wider to hide the wrinkles, you end up looking like you just sat on a tack.)

Because, this is what I looked like all day.  

This is the sweater my daughter, Bethany, made for me last year.  She meant to embarrass me by making the World's Ugliest Sweater. Instead, I embarrass her by wearing it and telling everybody she made it.

But, somehow, walking around today, jingling, jangling and snagging on all the unsightly things hot-glued to my sweater, I came to the conclusion that the joke was still on me. 

Literally, on me.

And I put my foot down for the right to dress myself?

Let It Snow!

It always snows during December, if you are in downtown Bellevue  at Snowflake Lane.

 With family and friends, we decided to enjoy the sounds, sights and excitement of the Christmas season.

I

Here they come!

Frosty the snowman is a bit thinner in these parts, must be the warm weather.

Hard to keep on those snow-packed pounds.

 Beka loved the beautiful Snow Princesses. 

They were every girl's dream, gorgeous, sweet, and wearing glitter, fur and hooped skirts!

This polar bear is either camera shy, or scared of kids. 

Neither condition a recipe for success for his profession.

Washingtonians are all like mailmen.

 Despite rain, hail, sleet or snow, we get outside and enjoy our activities.

People lined up on both sides of the streets, preferably under the overhang to avoid the rain, and watched, shivered, sang aloud, took pictures and ate peppermint lollipops all the characters were passing out.

Melissa and Grace would even say that Rudolph's nose glows.

The hired drummers march in formation in their snazzy outfits,

and stand on snowflake adorned pedestals along the street for their performance.

While they drummed and bopped to the beat of "snow" songs, people sang along.

OK, I sang along.   

My girls were probably wishing they didn't look so much like me.

Everyone knew we were together.

We enjoyed the music, the comraderie, the Christmas songs, meeting famous Christmas characters, the fake snow,( more like too many suds from Dawn dish soap),

and that feeling that Christmas has.

 

 Everyone, except this little Dude.

Up on the Housetop

Up on the housetop

Does Bethany pause

Scared to death, holding on by her claws,

Next to the chimney

Making lots of noise

All to light the house for

 Christmas joys

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Pa wouldn't go,

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Ma wouldn't go,

Up on the housetop,

Slick, slick, slick,

Don't fall by the chimney

And bleed on the brick.

Even though she is afraid of heights, Bethany, jumped up onto the roof during a dry day at the end of November, to string our house with icicle lights.

Our family loves having hundreds of little white lights twinkle in our Christmas season. One of our favorite December activities is to curl up in front of the fire in the living room and enjoy the lights shining in our home.

Ever since God said, "Let there be light," Genesis 1:3, believers have loved light.  These twinkly Christmas lights, though just an American tradition, can remind us of spiritual Truth.

John 12:46, "I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in Me should not abide in darkness."

John 3:19, "And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil."

As you enjoy the flickering brightness of your Christmas lights, turn your heart to the Light of the World. Let His light shine in the darkness of your life and bring the light your heart is longing for. We all have something, some longing, some desire, some struggle, some secret corner in our heart that needs light.

Let His light so shine.