One for You and One for Me

   Let me tell you, when Honey gets a bee in her bonnet, you better watch out. She has been talking about me coming over to make Christmas cookies for the past year. It's something she calls a "tradition." Oh brother.
    She and my mom (The Daughter) set the date and even invited my Uncle Brother to come over to help. They just didn't know that Honey and I had it all under control.
     Here I am arriving at Honey's for the big day. I am getting a personal escort inside by my Unky -- he's the who belongs to Nanny and Little Two. He stopped by Honey's house to pick up something before he heads off to B'Ham to be with his wife (my Aunt Nanny) and brand new baby girl (Little Two) for Christmas. I guess my cousin Little Two will come to the cookie making party next year. Oh no, I am gonna have to learn to share before then. At least I have another year to work on it.
  

This is the cookie making station. You can see
 that Honey has taken a few short cuts.
Yes, that's store bought icing.

     We didn't waste any time and got right to work. That's my very own bib I am wearing, but that apron is almost an antique. It's the one my Mommy wore when she and Honey made Christmas cookies long long ago. Honey is going to add my name to the apron. When she gets around to it.


Uncle Brother came over to help me out. I offered to let him taste some of the cookie dough but he said he was watching his waistline. I not only tasted the dough, I also had to taste all of the cookie cutters, too.

I think I might be able to get a job in a testing kitchen one day.

What do you think?

    Mommy was there to keep an eye on me. She didn't want me to eat too much of the sweet sticky stuff. But Honey reminded her how much my Mommy loved to eat the dough and said that she would even sneak around behind Honey's back to eat some more. I decided not to be sneaky. I was completely up front with my dough eating. Can you tell?

     I offered everybody some of my dough, but I didn't have any takers. That's fine with me. I just ate it all.
I say forget the cookies, just eat the 'makings!
     The final touch was shaking out the red sprinkles all over the cookies. This was my favorite part next to...yep, you guessed it...eating dough.

         Believe it or not this is hard work. You have to hold the shaker just so. I think I have it down to a science now.

        I was all dressed and ready to leave when I spied Honey's Christmas tree. I was hoping that maybe one or two of those packages under the tree just might be for me. Too bad I can't read or I would have opened a few. Instead, I just knocked them around a bit. No harm done.

      In case I don't see you again before Saturday, have a Merry Christmas! 

Guest Post from The Husband

    This is a first. In my two year blogging history, I have never invited The Husband to comment (I am just glad that he reads the blog on a regular basis), much less submit a post, but this was something too special to pass up.
    The Husband works for a financial institution here in Nashvegas. As with all large publicly owned companies, it is a secular institution.  Each year The Husband sends a Christmas letter to every employee of the bank, all 800+ of them. He does so with gentleness and respect for each employee, but no matter the personal cost to him, he feels compelled by deep conviction to share his thoughts regarding the true meaning of Christmas. It is a great blessing that the leadership of the bank does not prohibit him from sending the letter, which is so very rare in this day and time. I tell you all of this by way of introduction so that you will be able to understand how remarkable and precious the Christmas letter really is...
   Without further ado, here is the Husband's 2010 Christmas letter:

Merry Christmas!

“Joy to the World, the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King;

Let every heart prepare Him room.”

     "I am confident that you, as I, have probably sung these verses over a hundred times. However, as I recently pondered these words, I asked myself how many times have I truly reveled in the power of these words and celebrated their meaning? With the birth of Jesus, the Lord has truly come and we on earth can receive our King. Equally as important, and perhaps more so, these words entreat us to prepare Him room in our heart such that as we ask Him to be our Lord and Savior,  the Holy Spirit lives in us. Then when we pass from this earth, we awake in the Heavens to forever be with our Messiah. Indeed, what joy we should have as we celebrate each and every Christmas.

   As Christmas day approaches and I think of the various “happenings” related to this wondrous event, two words have resonated in my thoughts, “obedience and promise.”  The initial act of obedience centered upon Joseph – sometimes referred to as the forgotten man of Christmas. Joseph was forced to accept a situation that was certainly humiliating and as difficult as any which one could imagine as he excitedly looked forward to his marriage day with Mary, only to learn that his wife-to-be was pregnant. Once he learned the truth, out of obedience, Joseph remained fully devoted to Mary. On the other hand, Mary – reflecting the obedience of submission as seen in Luke, was chosen by God, and accepted her role as the one who as a virgin would give birth to the Son of God who came to earth to transform our world as no one else could ever do.

     With the birth of Christ, the shepherds were obedient in their role to go to this child bearing the gifts of worship and adoration. It is particularly important for us to realize that the shepherds were the lowest of society, pushed out of their lands by Egyptians and despised by many, yet chosen by God to be the first of humanity to whom the birth of the Son of God was to be revealed. What does that tell all the world? – no matter how low you are as judged by the world, you are never beyond the reach of the Lord; He came to reach out and touch us in a way no one else could.

     We must also ask ourselves, “Why was there no room in the inn for the Prince of Peace, the King of humanity, to be born?” There is nothing like Christmas in all of culture, in all the history of mankind. Never before has a King been relegated to such impoverished conditions, such that royalty would actually invade poverty. Contemplate the truth that the royal robes of eternity were born in the poverty of a stable surrounded by the stench of animals – even in birth rejected by humanity, a precursor to the end of His life when man would once again reject Him even to the point of death on a cross. Born to a peasant woman, God, by His son Jesus humbled Himself to become a man so that we might have access to Him for all eternity.

     The second word which I embraced was “promise” especially as related to the words of the Old Testament. The words of the prophets of the Old Testament clearly promise us that a Savior is to be born to this world. He is to be a King unlike any which the world would anticipate – a King who would come not to conquer by sword and physical battle, but instead a King who came to battle for the soul of each of the Lord’s precious children on earth. His battle was to conquer the natural sin to which we are all held hostage and provide us an avenue through God’s grace and mercy to be cleansed of these marks and through His grace and not works to be able to be reunited in eternity with our Lord.

     Christmas is like no other time of the year. The little boy or little girl in all of us begs to come out and join in the festivities. However, as believers we quickly determine that the true joy of Christmas is the knowledge that through the birth of Christ, we are promised that we will never be alone. No matter the circumstances which we face, we must claim the victory that in His sovereignty God is always intimately involved. During 2010, we at [this financial institution] have faced an array of challenges ranging from difficult business circumstances to seeing many impacted significantly by the May flood to severe illness of associates and loved ones and even to the passing of life on this earth. We, too, have experienced the blessings and joy of sacrificially helping others; witnessed the healing of those dealing with sickness; seen changes for the good in decision-making on the part of our children; and even prayed for an organ transplant recipient who has seen much improvement in her quality of life.

     For all that has been given to us, what perhaps might be the greatest gift which we might give to our Lord? I say that it is our obedience to Him, for in that obedience we give Him our heart; our soul; our spirit. When He came to earth as Emmanuel, God with us, that is what He desired from us. And through His birth into humanity, Jesus has opened the door to eternity for all who choose to believe and accept. I pray that we all embrace this truth: that we should not merely celebrate Christmas this season but instead we should celebrate Christ – some of us possibly for the first time. What a gift that would be to the Lord and surely a Merry Christmas for that person. Through this, what better present can ever be received? – The guarantee that one day, because of Jesus and Jesus alone, everything will be made right in this world! I pray that you find great joy in the truth that you are a special creation of the Lord, loved by Him in a way that we can never fully understand while on earth. In that and because of that, I wish for each of you a truly “Merry Christmas”!!

                                                                                                God Bless"

I couldn't have said it better if I tried...

The First Gift

   The Beginning. Number One. My Alpha:  Thankful does not come close. How can you describe in words what it is to be a fatherless child who suddenly discovers the everlasting love of the Father, the One who will never leave or forsake her; the one who has always and endlessly loved the little girl now all grown up and getting old on the outside, but who can shift on a dime to become once again that eight-year-old child who is still listening at the door for the sound of a voice and the fall of a step that will not be heard again this side of heaven.
   Through the years the hole in her has deepened and widened until it reached the point where it began to define her. She carefully maintained a facade, but the hole was there like the Grand Canyon. It would not go away. She couldn't fix it.
   It is the grief from which she had run. The grief from which she had hidden away her true self. It was only when her ever-seeping wounds begin to affect those around her that she was willing to examine these wounds and to begin to admit their existence. To be willing to turn from the darkness of self-protection toward the light. To risk exposure, if it carried the distant hope of healing. Redemption seemed to be too much to ask.
    And then He comes. Emmanuel. The Wounded Healer himself. The Everlasting Father. The Prince of Peace. He has borne it all: the sin, the misery, the grief, the pain, the separation, the devastation, the desperation. And He has made peace for one and for all.
    And for that little girl now all grown up and getting old on the outside it is the miracle that she needs. He is here. He always was here. He always will be here. He is More than Enough.
     He is the Way of Peace for her. He is the Redeemer. It is the turning in and turning out of all things. In Him all things hold together. In Him she is held together. By gentle loving faithful hands. The tender embrace of a Father as He cups her face and whispers once again of His great great love for her, His daughter.
     And He is...in the beginning and the end...all she ever really needs. He is her Salvation.

The Christmas Cave-In

     This post could bear one of two titles, "The Christmas Cave-In" or "How a Fake Tree Saved My Marriage." The Husband and I have been married for thirty-six years and traditionally Christmas has always been one of the hardest seasons for us to weather in unity, equanimity, peace or with composure, much less a joint manifestation of some semblance of sacrificial love. Despite the deeply spiritual significance of Christmas and all that it represents to us as believers in Christ, the husband and I have had the most serious wars of our marriage over of all things, a Christmas tree. I should be embarrassed. He should be embarrassed. We are. But we have also come to grips with the reality of the way that each of us looks at life. And it could not be more different.
     The Husband barely tolerates the Christmas tree. I dearly love the Christmas tree. And right there you have it. From day one of our marriage, the die was cast. The gauntlet was thrown...unbeknownst to either of us. He grew up in a family where the mother was perfectly happy with a minimally decorated tree and a minimally decorated house. For her, Christmas was all about the food and she was an exceptional and noteworthy Southern cook of the finest order, but decorations of a Christmas nature were definitely not her forte. I, on the other hand, was a descendant of a family line that revered all of the traditions of Christmas and in particular those that involved decorating and entertaining with style. My grandmother won her Garden Club Decorating Door contest for several years running, and she took her Christmas celebration, entertaining, and decor quite seriously. So did her daughter, my mother. My husband had no idea what he had married into, and I doubt that hot summer day in August when we spoke our vows that he ever even thought about Christmas. And truth be told, nor did I.
      But then Christmas did what Christmas always does. It came around. You might remember from an earlier post on the Christmas Bride, that the husband originally felt that since we used to travel out of state for the week of Christmas every other year, that on the year of travel, the tree was a completely superfluous purchase. We traveled to Florida that very first year of our marriage, but returned to our tiny apartment on the 23rd of December. After much crying, travail, and the use of feminine wiles, on Christmas Eve the Husband finally agreed to the purchase of a small table top tree. A real tree, of course. I distinctly remember that he talked the tree lot owner down to the bargain basement price of four dollars. Yep, you read it right. Four dollars. A bonafide bargain even in those days. Never mind that half the needles fell off the tree as we carried it up three flights to our apartment. It was a tree. I even managed to persuade him to stop at Walgreens (it was about the only thing open that late on Christmas Eve) to buy a few ornaments, which thankfully had already been marked 75% off. Although they were picked over, I managed to find a few hideous satin covered styrofoam balls and a plastic nativity which remained intact for the next thirty years where these ornaments always had a place of honor on our tree. They were the beginning.
     So having won that battle, I had little idea that we had just left the equivalent of the first shots fired at Fort Sumter for another war of another nature, one that was akin to the Alamo. Each and every year we would travel to the tree lot or to Home Depot to buy our tree. Our trees have represented all that the Christmas tree business has to offer. We have progressed from Scotch pines to Douglass firs and finally Frazier Firs. We have had tall trees and short trees. Skinny trees that looked more like pencils with erasers than trees. We have also had trees that appeared to be the incarnation of Queen Victoria...short and squat. We have had trees that looked like they were orphaned from birth and trees that looked like they could have graced the White House. And sadly, every one of them represented a battle. A contest of wills. His and mine.
The Husband would have been happy for the tree to remain outside "resting" for two weeks or even three before hauling it into the house. I would resort to badgering and cajoling to get him to bring the tree in and set it up, a task I tried to accomplish once or twice on my own, but found myself seriously lacking the requisite physical strength. It quickly became readily apparent that he was required to be on board.
     Once the tree was in the house, the next battle would ensue: getting the tree in the stand and upright: a wrestling match of the finest order. Words would be muttered under the breath and there would be much huffing and puffing. And then. Then he would collapse and say that's all I can do tonight. No lights. No angel on the topmost branches. I would grumble and pout and relent, because he is a man not easily moved.
Then the lights. More frustration. More disagreement. More disaster. And still no angel. If the tree was not too tall, I would haul the ladder in from outside and affix the angel myself, but it really was a job that usually required two people as she is quite a delicate thing. Some years, the sons were available to help, but none of them are too enamored of the idea of helping to decorate a Christmas tree. They must take after their father.
     I resigned myself early on to the fact that I would be largely responsible for decorating the tree, and it was a task that The Daughter and I enjoyed together for many years. We would put the Amy Grant Christmas album (the one with Tender Tennessee Christmas on it) into the CD player, make some hot chocolate and go to town. Those were delightful times.
    But then...then The Husband and I would get to the real battle zone. The dreaded REMOVAL OF THE TREE. No matter how many times I sought to prepare The Husband for this final task, he always tried and mostly managed to dodge. I guess in his mind, he had already done his part (hauling the tree into the house and setting her in the stand) and hauling out was not included in his duties.
    When the three sons were in the house, the Christmas tree battles were not as lengthy and protracted, but once the children went to college, things definitely got worse. Each year as Thanksgiving neared I began to dread the Christmas Tree wars. It was an old battle and I had no taste for it.
     So after thirty-four live trees, year before last I caved-in. On the day after Christmas, I did not go to the mall, instead I went to the Christmas tree store. I stood in line with what seemed like hundreds of women and listened while the salespeople extolled the virtue of one fake tree over another. I groaned inside, but I was determined. When I finally made my selection, I felt a tiny twinge of angst but that soon abated. The next year when Christmas rolled around and The Husband hauled the giant box into the house, less than twenty minutes elapsed before I found myself admiring a lovely shaped tree, fully lit and replete with the delicate bisque and lace angel firmly ensconced at the top. I knew then I had arrived. There were no mutterings under the breath, no pleading on my part, no tempers flaring and no frustration evident in either of our faces. We were smiling. I will repeat that. Smiling. So what if the tree did not emit that magnificent smell? I bought some fir scented spray and put live greens in other places throughout the house. I didn't have to worry about a dried out and withering tree crashing over. I didn't have to endlessly sweep and vacuum my living room multiple times. I was finished with finding needles in my carpet in June. I now have a happy husband and that makes me a happy wife. So what if I caved. I bought the fake tree. I know without a doubt that it has made a difference in my marriage. I only wish that I had done it sooner. But then again, I confess that I am an exceptionally stubborn woman. Bet you couldn't guess that, could you?!

Yes, it's a fake!

Daughter's Annual Christmas Party

     The Paperless Post invitation read: Come for Soup, Drinks and Sweets! And so they did. Forty or so of our dear friends gathered with us at our home Saturday night. Our annual Christmas party is one of my favorite evenings that I look forward to all year long. Even the downpour that preceded the next day's snow certainly didn't dampen anyone's spirits.
     Here are some pictures of our holiday decor. We did have to modify a few things since we have a toddler (Little One) who is in constant motion and loves nothing better than to poke, prod, taste, and take apart everything. You might notice that the tree is somewhat sparsely decorated with mostly unbreakable ornaments. And since several strands of lights didn't make it to another year, we tried to make do with what we had. We kept the table simple with pine roping in the chandeliers and more pine roping lining the center of the wooden trestle table. The Mom helped me tuck magnolia leaves, fresh holly, other greens and white spider mums into tiny vases all along the table. Candlesticks in varying heights completed the look.

     We kept the food simple as well. My sweet husband made the homemade soups (tomato basil and potato) and we served them from the kitchen in an assortment of Christmas mugs. The table held an array of old fashioned treats like red and green (Christmas colors, of course) pepper jelly with cream cheese, strawberry trifle, chess tarts, pecan tarts, chocolate mint brownies, lemon squares, sugar cookies, and peppermint bark. We also served a veggie tray with hummus and had a cheese and fruit tray, but nothing that required the use of an oven at the last minute which made everything so much easier.
       Here are pictures of just a few of the friends who came to share the joy!

           Special thanks to the dear friend who took all of the pics for me and unfortunately did not make it into any of them!

          And an added postscript. The next evening my husband and I attended a Trans-Siberian Orchestra Christmas concert. Honey and Pappy came to our house to babysit Little One. While they were sitting quietly in the den...the Christmas tree crashed over onto the floor. The poor thing is no longer wearing the few ornaments it had on before and is now woefully wedged in tightly between the window and a large chair. I am just glad it made it through the party before disaster struck!

An Advent Prayer

    I have read the story hundreds of times. It never grows old. I have committed it to memory where it lingers and provides renewal and refreshment to my heart at the most opportune of times. Sometimes the words rise unbidden to the forefront of my mind where they replay like a poem or song that makes my heart want to sing...

       "And it came to pass in those days...that Joseph went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David..."
 
You know the rest of the story as well as I do. You know the cadence of the words and the inherent poetry and beauty of the language itself and the special way that the story tells us at once so very much and so very little of what really happened that night.

I learned something new about the story today. Our pastor was talking about the shepherds, and he likened their social status at that time to that of the gypsy, the migrant worker, the undocumented immigrant, or the homeless. The shepherds existed within Jewish society as a people without a voice. They had no legal status whatsoever and were considered so unreliable that they were forbidden by law to give testimony in court. They were never allowed to worship at the Temple because their occupation rendered them ceremonially unclean. In the pecking order of the Jews, they were the lowest of the low. In fact, they did not count, and they did not have to participate in the required census. They were quintessential nobodies.

Now here comes the irony.

The first witnesses, the first to receive the message, the first to come and worship, the first to spread the Good News, the first to "see" the Messiah were the very least of all in the kingdom of heaven.

Think about it.

Christ brought a revolutionary gospel, a revolutionary upheaval to the old order, and He taught us a revolutionary way to love and to live.

And he began with the nobodies. He did not begin with those in authority: the kings or the priests or the rulers. He did not seek out the rich and the powerful. He did not even seek the Wise Men. They sought Him.

I am just beginning to work all of this through in my head...and it is leading me to ask myself who and what do I worship when I am not engaging my head and my heart with the Lord? What draws my heart? What occupies my thinking? What else besides the gospel captivates me?

I am afraid it is not very pretty. I am afraid it is petty and selfish. I know the things that charm me most when my heart is not immersed in the gospel are things that are really of little value at all.

I so want to be a shepherd. I so want to be willing to leave it all in the field of my life and say to my family and those with whom I am in community ..."Let us now go even unto Bethlehem,and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known to us."

I want to kneel on that rough and filthy floor and offer to Him all that I am and all that I have. I want Christmas made new in my heart.

This is my Advent prayer.

Some of My Favorite Things ...

One of my favorite things to do is watch people do what they love. It can be an athlete, an artist, a baker, or a mom. It does not have to be something grand just something that brings joy to the person. I am honestly not a promoter of people/events in mass form but these are things that are truly not worth missing.

Here are a few people that are passionate about what they are doing (they also provide an amazing product and are friends!):

Catherine Clement is hosting: Christmas on 18th Ave ... I like to call it Christmas Wonderland. Her already beautiful home is decorated with amazing attention to detail and love. You walk into the smell of hot chocolate and treats. You then realize that you can buy beautiful handmade gifts to spread around to others that you love. I look forward to this day all year.

Massage East is my new favorite place. I actually think about it often. I feel as though I have found a new friend in Kathleen. She promotes self-care and is willing to talk through what is best for your body. I love how she has invested precious time to learn medical information that will help her understand how to best serve her clients.

My aunt is an AMAZING baker and cook. She has blessed my family so many times with delicious rolls, unbelievable caramel cake, and cinnamon rolls that I crave year round. She even had me come over when I was little to let me watch and then take part. Please contact me to get her information. She lives in Nashville and bakes year round.

Micah Puncochar has turned my backyard into a place that I will play with my precious daughter. He has vision and excitement that are both contagious. He is willing to work with prices, your thoughts and also will give ideas to inspire. Please contact me on this one, too.

All of these "favorite things" of mine are great places to find gifts to give or receive. Prices on some of these start super low and others are investments. Hope this helps!

I also want to say that not everyone is able to have a job they are passionate about, but you can have something in your life that brings excitement, joy, or passion. It is worth finding these things!!