Little Two Love

How great is the love the Father has for us...
  
This is the scripture that kept running through my mind when I kept the delicious and infinitely lovable Little Two this week.

She is three weeks old today.

I swear she smiled at me.

I sang Jesus Loves Me and quoted Psalm 139 to her. I also reminded her of some of the important truths from Proverbs 31. You might chuckle and say that she's a bit young, but it is none too soon. Did the Lord not say, "Out of the mouth of babes..." And besides, more than anything, I desire that Little Two will always know and treasure the great great love that the Father has for her from a very early age.

I know what it's like to have a praying grandmother. I had two.

So I'll keep praying, and singing, and cuddling, and loving, and telling Little Two all about her wonderful Savior and all that He's done for her...

I just couldn't resist sharing some of her sweetness with you today! "Oh taste and see that the Lord is good."

And yes, we apparently have this crazy hair thing going with both of our granddaughters! Gotta love it!

    Last week The Husband and I saw Andrew Petersen perform a "rehearsal" of Behold the Lamb at our home church. It was a magical worshipful experience and if you have the opportunity to attend a performance of this Christmas concert in your local area, I urge you to go. In particular this song, written by Andrew and sung by Jill Phillips, touched a deep chord within me. I trust you will be blessed as much as I was.

A Treasured Nativity

     For the first twenty-five years that my husband and I were married, I bought something reminiscent of the nativity as a part of our Christmas gift to one another. Thus it is that our home at Christmas is filled with creches. When Christmas is over, I don't even put them all away. Some of them remain in place throughout the year as a perpetual reminder of the "Gift" they represent. As you might surmise, these creches come in all shapes and sizes. Some are ornaments that hang upon the tree; others are fashioned of wood, ceramic, or clay, and one set is made entirely of felt...it is perfect for little hands to hold and to move and to place just so over and over again. The other day Little One ran immediately to this nativity set and alternately carried the cow, the camel and the wise men around for long periods of time. After she left, I continued to find the pieces hidden away in the most unusual places. 

Little One's favorite creche

    However, my favorite of all the creches is one that unless you know the story is unlikely to draw your attention. Despite is supposed lack of beauty, this particular creche takes center stage in our home and is there to greet you when you open the door to our house; it sits on the entry hall table. It has a base made by one of my children of unfired (basically dried) clay; three little figures made by another of my children (there were once four figures, but sadly, Joseph has completely disintegrated), a banner hand-lettered by yet another child, and finally, a tiny clay plaque made by yet another. In short, it represents the collective efforts of all four of our offspring, but it was not planned to be that way -- it simply happened. 

         The banner is twenty-three years old. I wouldn't trade anything in the world for the "Goly to God in the highest..." Goly was a first grader's way of writing "Glory," but I am sure that God understood exactly what this child of mine was trying to say. Another child lovingly crafted the base which originally was shaped more like a cave and had an overhanging top that has long since broken off. It holds the three figures (there were once four). There is  Mary; she is the figure on the right bending over the tiny figure resting on a bed of clay. It is Baby Jesus but his head is no longer attached to his body and must be carefully positioned or it will roll off on its own. To the left of Jesus and Mary is a lion. When the son who made the figures came home with this nativity with the lion, I had the audacity to ask him, "A lion?" You should learn early never to ask children questions like this, unless you want to immediately be put in your place. I will never forget that he looked at me with something akin to disdain as he said, "Of course, Mommy, the lion goes with the lamb." And so it does. I cried. He patted me. The Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God...they go together, do they not, and indeed, are they not one and the same? Yes, some of the most profound truths come out of the mouth of babes. 
     The final complement to this treasured creche is the little clay plaque in the back: you can barely read it, but in case you can't, I'll tell you: It says, "Jesus I Love You." It was originally supposed to be a cross, an Easter decoration, but when this child brought it home he told me,"I couldn't do the cross, Mommy, I wrote Jesus a letter instead. I thought He might like it better than the cross. I wanted to tell Him thank you." I cried again. He said, "I want it to go with the manger." It was springtime so I asked again, "Do you want me to put it with the Easter things?"  He shook his head firmly. "No, this cross is a letter, and it goes with the manger." 
       How could it be that a child understood something so deep, so powerful, so profound?  How could he grasp at the age of five, the very essence of the cross? How could he know that the cross, the terrible, wondrous cross, is also a letter, an I-love-you letter from a Holy God to His beloved, yet sinful people. 
       So you see perhaps why this tiny fragile nativity holds a place so dear to this mother's heart. Each child of mine made his or her contribution, unplanned and unscripted over the course of many years to make it complete. There is a Banner of Love (Goly to God...). A little cave to cradle the Holy Family. A lion to stand guard and to lie down with the lamb.  And finally, a love letter that would and should have been a cross, except that a little boy wanted so much to write this letter to say thank you to Jesus for the cross. And the child knew intuitively that this was no ordinary baby, this was a baby born to die to save us from our sins. Christmas irrevocably linked to Easter. It is no accident that we must become as little children, is it? And once again, I cry, "Lord help my unbelief. Help each of us to believe with the wonder and the certain faith of a child."

    It is my Advent song this year...



   

The Place of Honor

    You cannot see the place of honor. It is buried somewhere deep inside the core of me. Perhaps the soul and spirit of a woman or man reside somewhere between the God-inspired confluence of heart and brain. I know not where. I know only that it is there. Unseen by human eyes, this is the place where He has set his seal upon me and in so doing has claimed me and marked me as His own.
    It still takes my breath away. The little girl with the sorrowing hole in her heart has found it filled to the full. And overflowing. The young fatherless child is now a daughter, His daughter. My eyes seep tears.
    This is how I celebrate the advent of the Christ, the coming of the Long-Expected One, my Savior. I remember. I stop. I cease my endless striving. I fall down before Him. I wish that I could remain in this place stretched out in the silence before Him. Joyful. Hopeful. Thankful. Oh, so thankful for my Abba, my Poppa, my Father, the Holy One. I am overcome and humbled by the long and difficult journey He took to claim the heart of one then eight-year-old girl. To afford me the honor of being His forever.

 

Another Grandmother to Love Me!

 Posted by Little One:
    You would think by the way that Honey carries on and on, that I have only the one grandmother! That's just not so. I am one blessed little girl and am surrounded by lots and lots of love and lots and lots of family. My grandmother Gigi is on her way to Honey's house to pick me up. She and I have so much fun together. She's a very experienced grandmother so she knows all the right things to do. Honey is still in the beginning stages of grandmotherhood so I always try to be as understanding as possible when I go to her house. I even slept in until eight this morning just for her. Honey has been looking a little tired so I figured she might need some more beauty rest.
    But back to Gigi. She rocks. Gigi even came to my birthday party dressed up as Spiderman's grandmother because she knew that Spiderman was coming to my party. How cool is that?  I also hear rumors that she makes the best sugar cookies known to man, but I have not been allowed to taste them yet. As soon as my climbing skills get a little better, I am going to stand on a chair and watch Gigi make the cookies. I just know that she's going to let me have a taste. I can just imagine it now. Yum Yum.
   Here is a picture of me with Gigi. Can't you tell how much she loves me? I sure can.

I am just a wee thing here...I am not looking too hot
in this shot, but Gigi looks beeeuuuutiful, doesn't she?!

I seem to have this bad habit of gazing off into space.
This picture was taken at my baptism party.
Gigi's special friend Esther made the dress I
wore to my party. Esther was a friend of my
great-grandmother Nonnie who is already in heaven.
 I just love this dress. It is pale pink.
What girl doesn't love pink?!

  

     There I am...gazing off into space again. But I still love this picture. That is Gigi's daddy, my great-grandfather, Pa B, in the picture. He loves me and he loves Jesus so very much. He is always speaking the blessing wherever he goes. I am glad that he is still around to love on me and tell me about Jesus.

         This is a more recent shot of me with Gigi. It looks like I forgot to comb my hair. I did. It also looks like I forgot to wipe my mouth, which is true, but I was having too much fun to worry about details like that. Gigi looks great. I look like I have seen better days.
      I better run. Honey is busy packing my suitcase so I will have everything I need when I get to Gigi's. Honey is muttering under her breath. She doesn't think I can hear her, but I can. She says that my mom, The Daughter, packed everything but the kitchen sink. I have no clue what that means. Oh well. Such is life when you are 13 months old. I'm off to Gigi's to have fun...see you soon!

Back By Popular Demand...The Christmas Bride

    A friend of mine recently asked me if I would repost the blog entry about our "bride" Christmas trees. Here is what I wrote a little more than a year ago:
     One of our family Christmas traditions was borne out of desperation rather than necessity as the age-old axiom asserts. In the early years of our marriage my husband and I argued incessantly over the annual purchase of the Christmas tree. It is not that the man was the incarnate Ebenezer Scrooge, but rather the one who tended to view life from an immensely practical side (I suppose ole Ebenezer did too). My husband's point of view was based on the fact that since we traveled 500 miles to spend Christmas with my family of origin every other year, the purchase of a Christmas tree for a house that would be vacant on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was totally superfluous. But I, who was raised by the Queen of Christmas Decor, knew otherwise. It mattered little whether the house was occupied on the actual day of Christmas or Christmas Eve...the tree was an essential component of the festivity and celebration of the season. Yet my husband would not budge. Thus I was forced to badger, cajole, plead and use every resource available to convince the recalcitrant man that a Christmas tree was a vital purchase EVERY single year.
     Once I had won this battle, I had little time to rest on my laurels before another problem arose. The tree was purchased and firmly ensconced in the living room but alas, there were very FEW LIGHTS and virtually NO ORNAMENTS. What was a girl to do? I was desperate. I had won the right to have the tree each year, but who wants a naked tree in the house...staring at you night after night waiting and begging to be dressed in some appropriate holiday finery. And I knew better than to go to my husband and ask for more money to purchase items that he already struggled to find necessary. And so in my desperation I prayed for inspiration and inspiration I found. 
     The first year I popped popcorn, bought cranberries and made garlands galore until my thumbs were sore from the needles going in and out, in and out as I strung for hours on end. And when I realized the next year that I was in the same boat as before because used popcorn and cranberry garlands are only good for the birds... I prayed once again. On the hunt in our tiny apartment, I dug through an old trunk to find carefully preserved bows, ribbons and leftover tulle from our wedding. I also found a few bits -- a yard or two here and there-- of several laces that I had purchased to embellish a dress or two. Soon these ribbons and laces found their way onto the tree and over time have become the tradition in our home. Now there are ribbons from our daughter's wedding and some gorgeous antique lace given to me by a special friend over 20 years ago that have been added to the original collection.
      Each year these ribbons and bits of lace more than garnish our tree-- they serve as the tree's primary decoration and help to make each one a object of beauty. When my daughter was about six or seven, she was helping me drape the tree in its finery when she turned to me and said, "Look Mommy, our tree is a bride." And I stepped back and squinted my eyes just so. And then I saw it. The tall green lady in her odd bits of lace and ribbon had suddenly become a very beautiful bride. And so it has been for the past thirty-five years that all our Christmas trees are brides. Each one different and each one beautiful in her own right. I love it. For me, it is another extension of the picture of Christ and his love for his people, the Church. We are His bride and He is the Bridegroom. And each year when we celebrate Christmas, we celebrate the mystery of the unlovely who become the lovely by the grace, mercy, incarnation, and sacrifice of God. And each year our tree stands in her bridal glory as a tangible reminder of that glorious and powerful love.
      And here is the 2010 tree in all her glory, another reminder to me of the faithful love of God and the fact that despite the darkness that prevails in the hearts of men, Jesus is the Light of the World.

     

     
Go here to check out some additional decorating ideas from some very talented folks!

Chestnuts Roasting on a Fake Fire

     "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose...Yuletide carols being sung by a choir..."
     I wish.

     Our fire is fake, but at this stage of life I don't think I can do the bending and hauling and stoking and cleaning that a real fireplace demands, so I'll settle for my fake fire. We just light it for ambiance, because we learned a few years back when Nashvegas had a massive ice storm, and we lost power for five straight days that our fake fire does not put out many, if any, BTU's. Oh well, it still looks pretty good, or at least I think so when I am not wearing my glasses. And chestnuts? Give me a break. Martha Stewart and Ina Garten might know all about chestnuts, but I do not. I don't think I ever even saw a chestnut tree in the part of Florida where I grew up. Pecans. Now that's another matter. I know all about pecans. I even tried singing the carol using the words "Pecans roasting on an open fire..." but it just doesn't sound the same.
     And Jack Frost nipping at your nose. I guess your nose is supposed to turn cute and red, but that never seems to be the case around here. We either look like Rudolph when we get really cold or we turn nasty pasty white. Neither is attractive.
     And the part about Yuletide carols...we don't sing in my family, we make joyful noises. We try. But even the obligatory "Happy Birthday" is best hummed in my house.
     This is supposed to be a post about decorating mantels for Christmas. I guess I got a bit sidetracked. After you look at the picture of my mantel, you probably will be able to ascertain a few things about me:

• I like trees. I mean really like trees. I found the painting above the fireplace at an estate sale and fell in love with it. I even waited and went back the second day to see if I could get a better deal. I did. And it has been love ever since.  The painting used to be on my porch, but now is in my den where I look at it every single day. So I usually do a tree themed mantel to go with the painting.
• We have a big family. Those are all the stockings for my immediate family. My dear momma is the one who initiated the tradition of the needlepoint stockings, and all of my original stockings were designed by her and needlepointed by her. They are gorgeous. She would probably die if she knew that the in-law stockings came from Lands End, and the grandbaby stockings came from EBay. Oh well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her.
• I don't know the meaning of the word edit. I once had a decorator friend of mine come over. He rearranged the furniture, paintings and do-dads while The Husband and I were on a five-day trip. I think it nearly killed him. When we returned to our "new" home, he was kind enough to say, "You have lovely things, BUT...you need to learn to edit." Unfortunately, despite his sincere and well-intentioned advice, I have failed at this task. I do not know how to edit. I always get carried away with myself.
• I like clutter. It is my middle name. No explanation necessary.

    I guess there's not much else I can say. Merry Christmas, and here's the unedited and unPhotoshopped mantle and one more Christmas picture for you to enjoy: