Today I was talking to my daughters about writing a Christmas Wish list for the family as well as Santa to see. My oldest daughter, now 8, said that she would be happy with anything that Santa gives her. She said that she would be "Thankful even if I get coal because we can use that to burn and keep warm and it is nice of Santa to come all the way here to bring it to me."
That made my heart glow!! First I am thankful to God that my daughter has such a thankful and appreciative spirit and second I am thankful to God that my daughter shows wisdom and practicality in recognizing the usefulness of coal as opposed to the mere pleasure of a toy!
I hope that my sweet daughters will continue to grow to be appreciative thankful and practical children. I also hope that they are not swallowed up by the commercialism of the Christmas season and forget the true meaning of the Christmas celebration. We are to be honoring the Lord and thankful for the birth of Jesus in the humble stable trough so long ago.
Holding my own tiny son this year, so close to Christmas, I wonder at the sacrifice God made for us. I know that I would not be able to make that sacrifice. As I look into my little boy's sweet innocent face, the face that looks to me for all his needs, I know that I could never harm him, even if it was to save all of humanity. The sacrifice God made of his own only son to save all of us is truly the most tremendous sacrifice I can imagine. As a parent I can feel more keenly the pain the Lord endured to save us.
For that I am deeply grateful.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
A First Thanksgiving... of sorts
The first year I lived with my husband, sadly far from my family, but near his, I learned of his family traditions. His mother is not the domestic sort, despite having been a stay-at-home mother for all her life. His family doesn't make dinner, they make reservations!!
I was home-sick enough but the thought of celebrating Thanksgiving in a restaurant was appalling!!
Growing up Thanksgiving had always been my very favorite holiday. No one argued or got upset, there was never any dramatic happening, but everyone was cheerfully busy preparing for the grand feast. Yes, a celebration of excess, I suppose I could pray about whether it is wasteful or wrong to feast this way, but I would like to imagine the Lord enjoys seeing us happy and thankful, fellowshipping over a meal together and ruminating on what ways we are truly blessed by God.
Besides, my family was always certain that not one scrap of food went to waste! Mmmm... my mouth is watering just thinking about the cold turkey sandwiches we had for about 10 days following the feast!
My mother always woke very early and by the time I woke and came downstairs the house was already warm and filled with the smell of the roasting turkey. Music might be playing on the old record player and my mother would be in the kitchen, apron around her teeny waist, peeling or dicing or stirring something fragrant.
We were allowed a light breakfast, if we had anything at all. My sister and I got to work in the kitchen right away. My sister did not care much for cooking, or other domestic tasks actually although she is quite a talented and accomplished cook.
Nevertheless she would be found in the kitchen with us, smiling and working together.
My home was not much for professional sports. My parents watched the "Army vs Navy" football game each year, and occasionally the Superbowl, but our home was not polluted with the noise of a football game during Thanksgiving, that is until my little brother was a bit older.
My Aunt made it over eventually, always much later than she had promised. She would help in the kitchen as well and often sing songs or chatter pleasantly with us. The small kitchen was always pleasantly crowded as our early dinner time approached.
When the food was laid out on the table, delightful and delectable traditional dishes-all made fresh from scratch-we would sit and for likely the first time of the year we would pray together as a family. I enjoyed hearing my father pray. As a child, and in fact as an adult, I enjoy hearing my father talk. He is mostly a quiet man, and he worked very hard so he was often tired and did not speak much. When he did he always had something wise to say. When my father talked it was prudent to pay attention, for you would always learn something important.
After the prayer was complete we went around the table, starting with my mother after my father and we each said what we were thankful for. I looked forward to this every year and often planned ahead what I would say when all eyes and ears were on me.
It was only a sentence or two but I would eagerly prepare the sentences on colored scraps of notebook paper and would scratch out line after line when it just wasn't quite right. I had to be sure I mentioned everyone!
Then, we eat! My mother's food was mana from Heaven!! After dinner we often took a walk as a family, something we rarely did but I always enjoyed thoroughly. The air in Southern California was often just perfect around Thanksgiving. Cool and crisp and perfect for strolling in. When we were little we would walk around to the playground and we would be allowed to play for a short while as my father puffed on a large fragrant cigar or a funny-looking pipe (funny to me anyhow). I always enjoyed the smell of the spicy tobacco on the clean and fresh air.
After the walk there would often be some family-friendly movie on tv and we would all gather together and digest while watching. Then there were the pies. Fresh apple, pumpkin, and a few years we made mince-meat for my father (yuck!). There was always freshly whipped cream and ice cream too! And long pleasant family conversations. The adults often drank wine and we children were allowed to stay up late! My older brother Adam would come to visit and often stay up all night with us playing video games (we watched him).
I cherish these memories.
When I moved in with my husband I would just not hear of having a Thanksgiving away from my warm family out in a restaurant!! At the time his mother was less than pleased that he was in love with a divorcee with two small children, and was even angrier that I was not a Catholic. We invited them to our small townhouse for Thanksgiving dinner and they accepted so I felt tremendous pressure to do a very good job and impress my Mother-in-law.
The morning of that fateful first Thanksgiving I was attempting to remove the neck from inside the turkey. It was wedged in-between pelvic bones and would not break free. After much sweating and perhaps some cursing I enlisted the help of my husband. He is a tall and broad man, he reminds me of what a lumberjack would look like in the early years of our country, or the pictures in black and white you sometimes see of butchers. Big strong men capable of cleaving meat and bone and sinew and hoisting the food up and down on hooks.
My husband could not really fit his hand into the opening of the turkey, as he has considerably large hands. He shrugged and put a hand on either side of the turkey's cavity and wrenched the turkey apart. I stood there with my hands clapped over my mouth. I knew what he was about to do before I heard the cracking and snapping of many turkey bones. My husband had broken every single rib in the turkey's body and had snapped the turkey's back as well. The cavity was considerably more flexible now and he was able to reach his hand in and yank free the neck. He pulled it out and showed it to me with a big smile on his face.
I looked first to his beaming face and then to the now-pathetic turkey, sagging in on itself as if it had been crushed by a tremendous weight, then I looked back to his face. I burst out laughing. I laughed long and hard, enough that tears rolled down my cheeks. I tried to right the turkey but it flopped limply back in on itself which caused me to erupt in fresh gales of laughter. My husband shrugged and smiled sheepishly as he proffered the turkey neck. "Well, I got it out." He said.
Right then I was so thankful for my strong and helpful husband. I very much admire his determination. When he is set to a task he gets it done! Perhaps he won't be destroying any poultry again in our lives, I think he learned his lesson, but by golly he got that neck out for me!! If I ask him for something he comes through! And he knew how much this Thanksgiving meant to me.
I was very thankful for that relief. I felt the tension lift and the stress melt away. Sure, I could have been distraught over the "destroyed" turkey, but why? Truly, it was a pathetic looking turkey now, but it would taste good nonetheless. My husband used wooden cake baking dowels to prop the turkey up from the inside and it roasted just fine.
My extensive and careful planning paid off and dinner was perfect and ready on time. His family came and while the meal was very tense and rushed it was the first of many wonderful family Thanksgivings!
This memory never fails to make me smile. And it was a valuable lesson for me as well. I learned that day to be very careful what I asked my very strong husband to do for me. God blessed him with more strength than he knows quite what to do with!!
Happy Thanksgiving!!
I was home-sick enough but the thought of celebrating Thanksgiving in a restaurant was appalling!!
Growing up Thanksgiving had always been my very favorite holiday. No one argued or got upset, there was never any dramatic happening, but everyone was cheerfully busy preparing for the grand feast. Yes, a celebration of excess, I suppose I could pray about whether it is wasteful or wrong to feast this way, but I would like to imagine the Lord enjoys seeing us happy and thankful, fellowshipping over a meal together and ruminating on what ways we are truly blessed by God.
Besides, my family was always certain that not one scrap of food went to waste! Mmmm... my mouth is watering just thinking about the cold turkey sandwiches we had for about 10 days following the feast!
My mother always woke very early and by the time I woke and came downstairs the house was already warm and filled with the smell of the roasting turkey. Music might be playing on the old record player and my mother would be in the kitchen, apron around her teeny waist, peeling or dicing or stirring something fragrant.
We were allowed a light breakfast, if we had anything at all. My sister and I got to work in the kitchen right away. My sister did not care much for cooking, or other domestic tasks actually although she is quite a talented and accomplished cook.
Nevertheless she would be found in the kitchen with us, smiling and working together.
My home was not much for professional sports. My parents watched the "Army vs Navy" football game each year, and occasionally the Superbowl, but our home was not polluted with the noise of a football game during Thanksgiving, that is until my little brother was a bit older.
My Aunt made it over eventually, always much later than she had promised. She would help in the kitchen as well and often sing songs or chatter pleasantly with us. The small kitchen was always pleasantly crowded as our early dinner time approached.
When the food was laid out on the table, delightful and delectable traditional dishes-all made fresh from scratch-we would sit and for likely the first time of the year we would pray together as a family. I enjoyed hearing my father pray. As a child, and in fact as an adult, I enjoy hearing my father talk. He is mostly a quiet man, and he worked very hard so he was often tired and did not speak much. When he did he always had something wise to say. When my father talked it was prudent to pay attention, for you would always learn something important.
After the prayer was complete we went around the table, starting with my mother after my father and we each said what we were thankful for. I looked forward to this every year and often planned ahead what I would say when all eyes and ears were on me.
It was only a sentence or two but I would eagerly prepare the sentences on colored scraps of notebook paper and would scratch out line after line when it just wasn't quite right. I had to be sure I mentioned everyone!
Then, we eat! My mother's food was mana from Heaven!! After dinner we often took a walk as a family, something we rarely did but I always enjoyed thoroughly. The air in Southern California was often just perfect around Thanksgiving. Cool and crisp and perfect for strolling in. When we were little we would walk around to the playground and we would be allowed to play for a short while as my father puffed on a large fragrant cigar or a funny-looking pipe (funny to me anyhow). I always enjoyed the smell of the spicy tobacco on the clean and fresh air.
After the walk there would often be some family-friendly movie on tv and we would all gather together and digest while watching. Then there were the pies. Fresh apple, pumpkin, and a few years we made mince-meat for my father (yuck!). There was always freshly whipped cream and ice cream too! And long pleasant family conversations. The adults often drank wine and we children were allowed to stay up late! My older brother Adam would come to visit and often stay up all night with us playing video games (we watched him).
I cherish these memories.
When I moved in with my husband I would just not hear of having a Thanksgiving away from my warm family out in a restaurant!! At the time his mother was less than pleased that he was in love with a divorcee with two small children, and was even angrier that I was not a Catholic. We invited them to our small townhouse for Thanksgiving dinner and they accepted so I felt tremendous pressure to do a very good job and impress my Mother-in-law.
The morning of that fateful first Thanksgiving I was attempting to remove the neck from inside the turkey. It was wedged in-between pelvic bones and would not break free. After much sweating and perhaps some cursing I enlisted the help of my husband. He is a tall and broad man, he reminds me of what a lumberjack would look like in the early years of our country, or the pictures in black and white you sometimes see of butchers. Big strong men capable of cleaving meat and bone and sinew and hoisting the food up and down on hooks.
My husband could not really fit his hand into the opening of the turkey, as he has considerably large hands. He shrugged and put a hand on either side of the turkey's cavity and wrenched the turkey apart. I stood there with my hands clapped over my mouth. I knew what he was about to do before I heard the cracking and snapping of many turkey bones. My husband had broken every single rib in the turkey's body and had snapped the turkey's back as well. The cavity was considerably more flexible now and he was able to reach his hand in and yank free the neck. He pulled it out and showed it to me with a big smile on his face.
I looked first to his beaming face and then to the now-pathetic turkey, sagging in on itself as if it had been crushed by a tremendous weight, then I looked back to his face. I burst out laughing. I laughed long and hard, enough that tears rolled down my cheeks. I tried to right the turkey but it flopped limply back in on itself which caused me to erupt in fresh gales of laughter. My husband shrugged and smiled sheepishly as he proffered the turkey neck. "Well, I got it out." He said.
Right then I was so thankful for my strong and helpful husband. I very much admire his determination. When he is set to a task he gets it done! Perhaps he won't be destroying any poultry again in our lives, I think he learned his lesson, but by golly he got that neck out for me!! If I ask him for something he comes through! And he knew how much this Thanksgiving meant to me.
I was very thankful for that relief. I felt the tension lift and the stress melt away. Sure, I could have been distraught over the "destroyed" turkey, but why? Truly, it was a pathetic looking turkey now, but it would taste good nonetheless. My husband used wooden cake baking dowels to prop the turkey up from the inside and it roasted just fine.
My extensive and careful planning paid off and dinner was perfect and ready on time. His family came and while the meal was very tense and rushed it was the first of many wonderful family Thanksgivings!
This memory never fails to make me smile. And it was a valuable lesson for me as well. I learned that day to be very careful what I asked my very strong husband to do for me. God blessed him with more strength than he knows quite what to do with!!
Happy Thanksgiving!!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Blood, Sweat, and Tears
My husband has just been itching to build our girls a "playhouse" or "clubhouse" in our yard ever since we bought this house! So, finally, he decided just to go ahead and do it. A few trips to the local home improvement store, many sheets of plywood later, and a call to his best friend and a tiny house was being framed out in my yard!!
My husband has this "go big or go home" mentality, I must admit. Everything this man does must be HUGE!!
That reminds me of our very first Christmas together. We were living in this tiny townhouse apartment and we went to get our first tree. He chose a beautiful tree. A magnificent example of winter beauty. "But sweetheart," I asked him, "Isn't this tree a bit big?"
"No no, its fine" he assured me.
Now, I'm really horrible when it comes to spatial relations, I can never tell what size box to pack a gift in, or how much luggage will fit in a trunk... but I really thought that our lovely tree was a bit tall...
We drove home and my wonderful husband hauled our prize into the house... and... well, the tree was several FEET too large!!!
He ended up on our back step sawing a lot of the trunk off, and the tree did manage to fit in the house, if the tippy top was bent just a wee bit... and boy did it take up most of the room!!
It was all worth it though, to look at my husband's face, which was beaming with joy!!
Well, I digress.
My husband always goes BIG. I could go on and on with examples!
This little playhouse has ended up being quite the sizable playhouse! It isn't quite finished yet, but it is mostly done. I told my six-year old daughter this Saturday morning, "Go and play in that playhouse that your Daddy built with his blood, sweat, and tears". She smiled and hopped off (she is always hopping or trotting or galloping... like a little critter). She ran right up to her eight year old sister and said "Come On!! Mommy says we have to go play in the playhouse that Daddy built with Blood dripping out of his ears!"
I was laughing so hard I could barely catch up with the two of them to correct the misunderstanding.
Ever play the game "telephone" as a kid?
Thank you, Dear God, for my beautiful children!! AMEN!
My husband has this "go big or go home" mentality, I must admit. Everything this man does must be HUGE!!
That reminds me of our very first Christmas together. We were living in this tiny townhouse apartment and we went to get our first tree. He chose a beautiful tree. A magnificent example of winter beauty. "But sweetheart," I asked him, "Isn't this tree a bit big?"
"No no, its fine" he assured me.
Now, I'm really horrible when it comes to spatial relations, I can never tell what size box to pack a gift in, or how much luggage will fit in a trunk... but I really thought that our lovely tree was a bit tall...
We drove home and my wonderful husband hauled our prize into the house... and... well, the tree was several FEET too large!!!
He ended up on our back step sawing a lot of the trunk off, and the tree did manage to fit in the house, if the tippy top was bent just a wee bit... and boy did it take up most of the room!!
It was all worth it though, to look at my husband's face, which was beaming with joy!!
Well, I digress.
My husband always goes BIG. I could go on and on with examples!
This little playhouse has ended up being quite the sizable playhouse! It isn't quite finished yet, but it is mostly done. I told my six-year old daughter this Saturday morning, "Go and play in that playhouse that your Daddy built with his blood, sweat, and tears". She smiled and hopped off (she is always hopping or trotting or galloping... like a little critter). She ran right up to her eight year old sister and said "Come On!! Mommy says we have to go play in the playhouse that Daddy built with Blood dripping out of his ears!"
I was laughing so hard I could barely catch up with the two of them to correct the misunderstanding.
Ever play the game "telephone" as a kid?
Thank you, Dear God, for my beautiful children!! AMEN!
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