Date Archives → December 2010

christmas 2010

My two little boys are still playing their way through the stash of new gifts. Jameson successfully followed the directions to build his first Lego set, and William has won every round of alphabet bingo we’ve played. World maps have been assembled, Toy Story figures flown through the house, and lots of books read by the fire. Have two boys ever been so thoroughly indulged?

We celebrated our first Christmas Eve in our own home this year, and enjoyed having my grandparents here to share it with us. We woke up to stuffed stockings at our own fireplace, and then scurried to pile presents and breakfast and ourselves into the van so we could join the festivities at my parent’s house. It was a wonderful, relaxing day of just being together. And, of course, of yummy food and lovely tables.

The highlight of this Christmas season, though, was finding out that Baby #3 is due this summer! Jameson, especially, has been asking and asking about another baby (“Mom, don’t you want more boys? Like, ten? Wouldn’t that be fun, Mom?”). Boy or girl, we definitely think this will be fun.

christmas promises

As much as I love a good orchestral arrangement of The Christmas Song, and as lovely as images of sleigh rides and mistletoe and being home for the holidays may be, today I’m glad that Christmas is about more than that. I’m glad to hear these words and marvel at them:

And the glory, the glory of the Lord
Shall be revealed
And all flesh shall see it together
For the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.

This morning, I’m sitting by stockings hung with care. A beautiful tree is glowing in the other room. Out my window, the most exquisite shades of blue and gray and luminescent white are slowly giving way to light. It’s perfect.

But is there a promise anywhere that this is how I’ll spend every December? That this “perfection” will be my children’s experience? No, no such promise.

Although stockings, cozy homes, peaceful landscapes, beautiful music streaming from Pandora are not guaranteed, there is a promise I can count on for myself and for my children:

The glory of the Lord shall be revealed. For the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it…

For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people; but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and His glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.

Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.

Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever. Amen.

(Read the entire libretto here. Is that good stuff or what?)

right now:

I’m sitting in a cozy chair while a quiet 4 year old boy builds Lego spaceships at my feet. Every once in awhile he tells me something: “Dis is da hallway. ‘Paceships need a have hallways, Mom.” (We’ve been sitting like this for almost an hour. So relaxing.)

William is sleeping. He loves to sleep in. Isn’t that funny?

The snow on the woods outside my window is beautiful. In February, it will still be beautiful, even if I’m ready for something new (read: no more snow.) I remind myself of this, because I don’t want to be a grumbler come late winter.

Two little chickadees are flitting and fluttering right up to my windows. Aren’t they the sweetest little birds?

My phone’s timer is going off. Jameson says, “Mom, you need to do jumping jacks.” He’s right. It’s my lame attempt to get my body moving on these winter days. Every hour, do something.

Right now, I’m thinking that I’m going to be thankful for this day and enjoy every calm, crazy, happy, sad, organized, and chaotic moment.

tree time

We have a tree. It’s lit, strung, and ornamented. Of course, it’s currently on it’s second lighting/stringing/ornamenting, thanks to the tumble it took last evening. Not much is as disheartening as a Christmas tree laying flat on your living room floor, surrounded by glass casualties. *sigh*

But it’s standing again, huge and wild and beautiful. Monday morning, this tree was growing in our backyard, part of a quartet of pines, but my daddy’s saw turned the quartet into a duo, and we got ourselves free Christmas trees.

Yesterday, there was the organized chaos of a nana, two mamas, three aunties, an uncle, and countless cousins (I don’t dare say a number; I’ll most definitely leave one out!) in our family room, beautifying the tree. Ornaments that had been given the last few years, but had never had a tree on which to hang, were unwrapped and rediscovered and put in their rightful place. Memories of honeymoons, first Christmases, road trips with the family, grade school teachers, and many more were shared. Glass, felt, porcelain, cross-stitch, all in between rows of red and white beads. Sparkling birds are clipped to the ends of wild branches — branches which invited live birds only weeks ago.

And, of course, the almost-invisible wire that Ryan used to tie the tree last night at 10:30.

This morning, I got to watch my very own little boy run from his bedroom to see our very own tree for the very first time.

Our first Christmas here, in this wonderful home, sitting right in the midst of a beautiful winter wonderland.

and suddenly, it’s december

For almost two weeks, the rhythm of our house has been totally different. Instead of waking up to just me and a dark house, I wake to early-rising nieces and nephews and their daddy who’s probably making coffee. We watch the sky turn orange together. My little boys don’t ever wake up grumpy, because the minute their feet hit the floor, they’re scurrying to set up a train track with their favorite friends. Instead of trying to decide how to sit four people at our long harvest table without feeling kind of silly, there’s a bench filled to overflowing with little bodies, and extra chairs besides. There’s a conversation to be had every night, whether it’s house projects, theology, or football. Our Advent calendar readings are shared, and Christmas cookies with Charlie Brown was a party this year. We’ve managed to do Thanksgiving, another houseguest, nights of special meetings at church, and a busy Christmas musical weekend, not to mentioned the usual events of early Friday school mornings and Sunday services.

It’s only been two weeks, but it’s been jam-packed with so much life, I almost can’t remember what it’s like to have only four of us here.

And when the Paladin crew packs their suitcases and heads back to the Little Yellow House, I’m pretty sure those early mornings will seem a bit more lonely.

*****

I’ve managed to fit in a bit of holiday decor, even though having half of our house filled with wood flooring sort of made me feel like we’re in limbo. (Kids don’t think we’re in limbo, and this is the only Christmas we get this year — so just do it, Danica! Make it special!)

the mantel: