Monday

Okay so he's not the most musical child. But he's cute and he just lost his other front tooth today, 6 days before Christmas. Gotta love it.

Avonlea lost TWO teeth today. My day was spent mixing salt water and cleaning blood splattered sinks. Really....three teeth in one day...the tooth fairy needs a raise.

Speaking of fairies, we (Dave, I, and our gum gnashing clan) went to the Nutcracker tonight.

Rose was in ballerina heaven. Grant endured until intermission when he asked loudly, "Is it half time?" We are obviously lacking culture....
During the aforesaid intermission Rowan pointed out a blond girl sitting in front of us to the right. She was maybe 13.
"I think she's beautiful. I like her shiny gold head."
I give a scared smile, nod weakly.
"I bet she's nice, too. Although," he pauses long enough to give me a shwed glance, "just because they're beautiful, doesn't mean they're nice."
I find my tongue, "NO, it does not."
"Do you think I could hang from the balcony by two fingers?"
He changes the subject and I breath freely once more.

Really with laundry, Rose throwing up on the kitchen floor, three teeth extracted, people calling to get the kittens, the Nutcracker and beautiful girls, the tooth fairy is exausted and a little stunned.

Good night.

Christmas?

I wrote this post last year and took it off after a couple of days because I got some flack from readers. However, this anti-Christmas attitude is growing and people are trying to dodge consumerism and "pagan celebrations" by not celebrating at all. Not celebrating Christmas and consumerism are two sides of the same coin. If Satan can't get us to celebrate the wrong thing, isn't it just as good to make us not celebrate at all? So I'm reposting my thoughts on this issue....


I run with an interesting crowd. My friends bake their own bread, nay even grind the wheat to bake their own bread. Most of them home school and use eco-friendly cleaning products. Some wear jumpers. Grain soaking is popular and so is classical education. Children toting instruments is not uncommon.

I can comment on this because I am a part of this group (minus jumpers). Rather than criticizing, I usually say, "teach me!" (I failed at Keefir 101. Do you bury cultures that you murdered?) There has been talk on the fringes, however, that puzzles me more than grain-sprouting does. I'm hearing anti-Christmas talk. Now, I absolutely know that commercialism is a big no-no. I realize that Christ's coming is the goal for first place in most Christian homes, the coveted center stage. However, I've been involved in some interesting conversations about the reasons not to celebrate Christmas. Instead of enthusiastically jumping on board I hesitate.

I've found myself in situations where I assume that everyone is excited for Christmas. And they aren't. Christmas has turned into a consumer nightmare.
Jesus wasn't really born on December 25th and many of our rituals connected with Christmas are pagan.
These are some reasons that I've heard for snubbing Christmas.
I don't have a controversial bone in my body. I hate to debate. I hate to argue. I can almost always see another's viewpoint and put myself in their shoes. Empathy makes me very hesitant to ever take sides.

Watch my split personality.

By all means celebrate Christmas! Celebrate the forerunner event of our salvation. Celebrate a chance to lavish and bless others even if you must be creative to do so. Jump at the opportunities for good-will and charity that present themselves at this time, and do it in His name, for His sake. Light a candle with your family at night and read an advent reading. Make His coming real! Make His coming joyous! Put up a tree, look at it often, and remember what it stands for, that the limbs will be hewed off at Easter and the trunk formed into a cross. Let your babies play with the Nativity pieces until they are familiar in their hands, cupped promises tangible. Give your children good gifts and remember that God is the ultimate gift giver. Hang up lights and remember that He came to be the light of the world. Revel in the reminders everywhere of the reality of Jesus. When the cashier says "Happy Holidays" smile and reply "Merry Christmas!" Because.....

If the Christians don't celebrate for the right reason.......who will?

Celebrate! Rejoice! Sing!

Forgive me if you don't agree. Tell me about it and I'll be empathetic.

I have to go soak my oats and teach my children Latin.

PS I should emphatically state that almost all of my friends celebrate true Christmas. This is my reaction to whispers I have heard and conversations I have had that left me dissatisfied.

A Way Through

It was an odd thing to be on the beach in December. It felt like the time I traipsed through a Christmas tree farm in August. The timing and location somehow grated.

But I was indeed on the beach last weekend, skirting waves with my family. I have no pictures to prove it because I forgot the camera. Last time I forgot underwear. I'd rather deal with the lack of camera, hands down. Anyway. Saturday morning, Dave and I talked long. Our kids played games and we discussed the challenges our family are currently facing. We talked in circles. Or rather, we would have talked in circles if we didn't keep slamming into an obstacle that resembled a stone mountains in it's strength. Impassible. We gazed up at this awe-inspiring edifice of frustration and could determine no ledges, no toe holds....how were we to get over this thing?

We shrugged our shoulders and started our day. It was lovely and odd, as only the beach in December could be. We traipsed along a crescent shaped beach toward another crescent shaped beach separated from each other by a mountain of stone. The stone edifice jetted into the incoming tide. Dave would have risked a toss into the rock in an attempt to get around. I would not. We got closer to the rock and spotted a cave. A hole in the rock. We started into it, all together. Avonlea was in front and soon I could see her sweet head silhouetted by a light at the other end. We were in a tunnel.

We ended up on the other beach.
I found coral and other treasures there.
There was a way through, I just didn't see it at first.
There was a way through a mountain of stone.
A tunnel of hope.

Rose

My blog's purpose is two fold.
The first purpose is to bring glory to God.
The second is to record the history of my family.

This story falls under the umbrella of both. I'm writing it because I want to remember. I'm writing it because I'm sad tonight and I want to laugh. I'm writing it because I want to always see her at 4, blond and lisping, utterly kissable and dear.

As Rose and I read through her children's Bible, I glean insight into her personality. She was beside herself when I read about Jacob and Esau, teary-eyed and mournful of the family rupture. Chapters later when Jacob was returning home, laden with wealth and wives and children, Rose was apprehensive.
"Esau won't forgive him Mommy."
Jacob kept sending gifts and Rose fidgeted, got up and sat back down, nervous. Finally they came face to face and Esau embraced his brother and she was incredulous.
And then, "Mommy, God could never forgive me like Esau forgave Jacob."
"Oh but He can baby."
And my Rose accepted Christ.

A month later saw us meandering through the desert with the Israelites. She was scornful.
"Oh not again! Are they still in the desert?"
But a hero emerged.  Joshua. He had a two page colored picture where he was holding out one hand to stop an orange sun and holding out another hand to stop a yellow moon. He had sandals laced up to God-only-knows-where. He was bronzed and armored.
Her hands clasped together and she lisped, "Oh Jothua! I love him!"
We were extremely excited for Bible everyday to see what Jothua would do next.

Then last week in the car she dropped the bomb.
"Mommy will you get me a Jothua?"
"Wh, wh, what do you mean?"
"To marry. I want to marry a Jothua."
We agreed to pray a Joshua in for her when Avonlea piped up,
"Who are you going to pray for, for me?"
"I'll pray for a David for you Avonlea. Someone who's passionate and has a heart after God."
Rowan was silent, he had his eyes on several little girls in Sunday School and Friday School and really didn't need my assistance.
Grant, however, spoke thoughtfully, "I don't really care who you pray for me to marry, just not that lady that looked back and turned to salt. Anyone but her."
He's never been fond of salt.

We are moving on now to the Judges of Israel. Rose thinks Samson is ridiculous and covers the pictures when I read about him. She has personality oozing out of her little lithe body and I am getting to know her by walking with her through the Bible. I am watching the Word of God change a 4 year old and it is amazing....and really funny!

Kittens and Harps

I was incredibly nervous yesterday. Nail-gnawing, leg itching nervous. Avonlea was to play her harp at the antique store downtown last night. I was nervous for her.
Fact: I am not nervous when I get up to sing, or speak, or dance, or recite. I've always loved being on stage and could only look in wonder at people who got stage fright.
But for some crazy, sick reason, I was nervous for her.

I didn't need to be, she played beautifully and she looked sweet.

She played for an hour and had a good crowd inside and out.

When she was done performing, she came to me and said, "I love it!"

She wondered wide-eyed at my nervousness.

And I couldn't help but think, "Wait, my girl, till you have a daughter! May she bring you as many moments of nail gnawing delight!"

We came home and  celebrated with ice cream and the movie "White Christmas." We all snuggled on the futon and each child had a kitten in their lap. Dave and I met eyes over the tops of four little heads and I said to him, "I never want this moment to end. The kittens and kids and harps and us."

I'm pretty sure the kittens didn't share my sentiments.

To be honest, I didn't share them either in about 20 minutes. Bedtime.

Isn't it amazing how many emotions we can journey in a day?