Spectators, Prepare Your Children

    

Lydia's note to her dad on the Runner's Wall

In Houston, this is marathon weekend.  It's busy and exciting and it's the one time a year that I wish I could tack on a runners bib and join the thousands who challenge themselves with a 13.1 or 26.2 run or in my case what would be a painful, arduous, long, slow jog. 


     Instead for the 6th marathon season since marrying a runner with high school track team memories, I have played the role of spectator.  And I will pat myself on the back and say that each year, I get just a little bit better.  Of course this year and last were much, much easier as K decided to run "just" the 1/2 marathon.  I say "just" because waiting 2 hours in the cold is cake when compared to the 3 or 4 hours of the full marathon.  And my condolences and admiration go out to my faithful friends who supported their marathon runners today in the rain.

Mile 6 - Kenny running back to tell us he may not make it.

    Of course Kenny wouldn't consider what he did today "just" a 1/2 marathon especially since when we saw him at mile 6, he told me he may have to drop out because something popped in his calf.  We weren't sure what to expect at mile 12. Would he have to call us to pick him up?  Would he stop at a medic tent until someone could drive him to the finish line?  Or would he just tough it out (probably the worse decision) and run on it for 7 more miles.  You can guess what he did -- because we were there 6 miles later right on time to see him half-running, half limping through the drizzling, gray rain.  

       And speaking of the drizzle, this was not an ideal spectator year.  The cold temps may have been good for runners,  but not for a mom and 3 kids who LOVE to complain about the cold.  The wind and the rain didn't help much either and were a test for our tempers and our home-made signs.  At one point, it got really bad.  We were rushing from car to sideline. Lanie was crying to be held because she was cold, Elijah was angry because she was crying, and Lydia lost her scarf.  I thought I came prepared with our winter wear, but it didn't fend off the frozen fingers. 

Look at the sad, sad face.

 

 

  This very kind woman took pity on us and invited us to a volunteer station where we helped ourselves to hot chocolate and donuts.  Nevermind that the morning began with a trip to the donut shop for chocolate milk and donuts.  At that point, I wouldn't have turned down anything.

For the  love of hot chocolate.

 And that little bit of love was just enough to lift our spirits as we cheered on dad for the last time.  It didn't last long though.  One moment they are saying, "We Saw Him! He made it!" and without hesitation, "Can we go now?"  I'm not sure if I'm raising true running fans.  But they are at least devoted to their dad. 

Mile 12 - still trekking

     After a fight with road closures and increased parking lot prices, we found our $6 lot, and tromped through the puddles (at least Lanie did), stopping at a port-a-potty on the way and finally reached the finish line where we waited to hug our wet, tired and limping runner.  

Finish Line

Small Victories

It's very late, but I didn't want to go to sleep until I documented Lanie's small victory.  If you are close to our family, you are very, very well aware that Lanie has an, um, pee problem.  I talk about it a lot, sorry. She's well over 4-years-old and just can't seem to hold her bladder.  We were in Target last week and in the hour and 1/2 that we were there, we had to scurry up to the restrooms, FIVE times.  It's a problem.  And for the past 6 months, I can't remember a day when she didn't change undies 2, 3, 4 or more times.  Poor girl.  She's been pricked, tested, gone through ultra-sounds, seen a kidney specialist, all to find out that internally, she's fine.  It's just one of those things.  And when I look back over the past year with her and the anger I've had at her lack of control, or my impatience with her inconvenient wet pants, I am not proud of myself.  I've read the books and I've talked to the doctor who tells me to focus on the positive, to ignore the behavior, to recognize that this is her thing she has to figure out.  And all I can do is be patient and wait. 

And wait, and wait, and wait some more.  I have definitely begun to scold her less for ignoring the "gotta go now" signs and we've started to just assume it will happen.  How many times a day do I ask her, "wet or dry?"  Or how many times a day do I say, "Go potty, Lanie" only for her to respond with, "I don't have to"  only to watch her change clothes a few minutes later.  And how often do we get on the road to go somewhere only to have to pull off to a gas station or more often, a grassy roadside.  It's certainly not the most fun kid problem to have, but I know it could be worse. 

With that said, that's why this day was pretty special.  Lanie wore the same Princess underwear all day.  All day!  And she was so grown up.  Helpful and fun and easy-going.  So different from what we've coined, "the spirited child."  Granted, I still did a lot of reminding her, but the end result - a great day. 

I've had this Ariel doll up in my closet since I bought it cheap last Spring.  I've just been waiting for some reason to give it to her.  When I saw that there was a good chance she might accomplish it, I told her I had something special "if" she could make it to the end of the day.  Usually, those kind of bribes don't motivate her.  She forgets there's a prize at the end so she stops trying.  Today though, she was a different girl.  Maybe because it was just me and her spending time together, without distraction, I don't know, but I saw a little bit of the responsible girl I know she can be peeking through.  It was nice.  And I wasn't impatient or uptight or in a hurry.  A very good day.

So right before bed, as she's finally changing those princess undies, she says, "Ew, yucky underwear I've had on all day."  That made me laugh really hard especially as Lydia is explaining to her that most people only wear one pair a day.  In the end, she got her Ariel that she completely deserved and loved.

I have no idea what will happen tomorrow. It may go back to the multiple clothes changes we're so very used to and that's fine.  We'll get there. But, today was a great glimpse.

Can't Complain

Today ALL THE KIDS are in school.  Ah.  After so much time with the kids home, it's a bit strange to have some quiet space to work in.  Lanie will be home tomorrow and Friday due to all her teachers going to a conference so I'm taking advantage of this one day to do more job searching.   I'm sitting at my desk listening to the rain that will never end.  The house is dark and ominous save for my one big desk light.  I have sent one "I'm interested" email, emailed one resume, took a very random English/Math assessment test for a fellowship position, and got one call for an interview.  It all seems so surreal.  I can't say that any of the positions that I have been applying for, scream ME but to be honest, I'm not so sure I know what job would be ME anyway.  It's been too long. I haven't been to work on a daily basis in 6 years.  How did 6 years go so fast?  And why did these 6 years seem so much like work?  I think some lie went around back in 2006 when I made this monumental decision to quit teaching, and maybe I believed it, that stay-at-home mom's have it easy.  Something about soap operas and bon bons.
    Granted, I have been able to hang out in my pjs a lot more than your regular Sally along with a long line of pluses that involve watching my kids grow up and me getting teary about it and writing long blog posts to commemorate it.  I can't complain.  So forgive me if I do complain -- but this going back to work thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be.  I keep meeting people who have stumbled into these fabulous jobs all because someone thought of them as talented.  Oh, the Lord knows there's something I'm good at, I'm just waiting to stumble into it.  
   In the meantime, I'll keep researching, and inquiring, and send, send, sending.  And when that gets boring, I'll go back to what is really fun -- writing about those kids that let me hang out in my pjs and (to connect the picture) who admire their mom so much (fancy job or not) that they want to dress up like her especially when she the look is so librarian-ish.  Imitation is definitely the strongest form of flattery. 

Candy Bar Sales = Character

          I feel like I'm skipping over Winter sports by writing this post, but Little League Baseball does not wait for Spring.  Even though the season doesn't start for a few months, this Saturday was sign up day which means Elijah got his box of World's Finest Chocolates & raffle tickets to sell.  If it were me, if I had to sell that chocolate, I would procrastinate to the last minute.  In fact, I was that elementary kid, many, many years ago only I sold Girl Scout cookies and calendars (back when Girl Scouts sold calendars).  And unlike today where the new way of selling anything is for the parent to email their friends and send links to the product, we actually had to go door to door to door to door to door.  Some of my girl scout friends had parents who would take their cookie sheet to work with them.  I was a bit unfortunate. My dad could do that but my mom worked at the Girl Scout Council where every woman there could grab a free box of thin mints at their whim. There was no way I was selling Ho-Downs and Scot Tees there (those are both old cookies that aren't sold anymore - just checking to see who may remember them?)

      I have many, many memories of walking the streets, so to speak, with a parent in the car, slowly keeping track of me.  I have one vivid memory where my friend Lisa and I were selling calendars door to door and I have to share it because it's the kind of story we told over & over.   Lisa and I were in a neighborhood we didn't know well.  I think my piano teacher may have lived nearby.  We were tired and very silly. I recall we hadn't sold much and were ready to throw in the towel but mom was waiting at the end of the street and we had several houses to go.  We knocked on this one a door and no one answered, then knocked again.  We were about to leave when this elderly woman came to the door.  We asked her if she would like to buy a calendar, pocket or wall-sized, and I'll never forget this, in her loudest voice she said, "For Crying Out Loud, why do I need one of those?"  It's the "crying out loud" part that had us in stitches.  Of all the ways to answer a door  -- just cracks me up.  That phrase made it, in some form or fashion into most of our conversations for the next ten years.

      Because I tend to think that what was character building for me, must be character-building for my kids, I was more than happy to walk the sidewalk while Elijah sold his candy bars.  What a great way to practice speaking to adults, looking them in the eye, and at times, being told no.  Sunday was such a pretty day that we made this little sales trip a family affair.  Kenny and I walked and chatted, and Elijah and his sisters, who were such diligent helpers holding boxes and raffle tickets, went door to door. 

     We did have to help Elijah with his first sales pitch.  At our next-door neighbors who we knew would be generous, Elijah said, "You want some chocolates?" 

      After this, his pitch became a bit more professional but still so funny.  After explaining that he was selling chocolate for Pearland Little League, without taking a breath or giving the neighbor a chance to say yea or nay, Elijah would start reading off all the different types of bars, "we have milk chocolate, and caramel, and this one is crispy, and that one's dark almond, and plain almond and continental almonds."  Of course he mispronounced almond as AL - mond which was about the cutest thing. 

     For whatever reason, whether it was his sales pitch, his cute little sisters, or because the people on our street can't resist chocolate, the candy was gone within two hours and Elijah had a wad of dollars that I'm pretty sure he was disappointed he couldn't keep.  We still have raffle tickets if anyone reading this is interested in winning a big Silverado truck.

    I know E was pretty satisfied with himself, and I can't hide that I'm proud of his go-get-um attitude.  And while he may not have suffered through a difficult "For Crying Out Loud" response to his candy request, I still think he had his character built just a little bit more.

Top Ten Things Kids Really Want Their Parents to Do With Them

After writing about our 2 week, lazy break, I stumbled upon this article through Pinterest.  It caught my interest because it is about a mom who was dedicating herself to being a Hands Free mom, which basically means, she wanted to be totally present with her kids and not distracted by email/Facebook updates/to-do lists, etc.  Since I feel like I can be a completely distracted mom, opting out of that video game with Elijah, or half-heartedly playing Barbies, or telling the kids to "wait, just a minute" so many times they grow tired, this article hit a big nerve.  I am not posting it all, but thought if anyone else feels similar guilt, they might like to read one part that I'm copying from the blog by Rachel Macy Stafford. I skip around a little for the sake of length so you may want to go to the site yourself to read it all.

I thought it was worth reading.  Maybe you will too.
Enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 We ALL want to do the things that matter to our children in the precious time we are given. In other words, we want to do the things that will stick with them, shape them, and cause them to look back on their childhood with happiness.

So what exactly are the things that kids remember? Would you believe there is a list of such items derived from children themselves?

When I stumbled on this list of what kids love their parents to do, I felt as if I discovered the proverbial pot of gold at the end of a “Hands Free” rainbow. . . .

A wise teacher named Erin Kurt happened to have the insight to ask her students what they most liked their parents to do with them. She asked this same question every year for 16 years and from these responses she revealed, “The Top 10 Things Kids Want From Parents.”

Be prepared to be surprised.

Be prepared to be hopeful.

Be prepared to give yourself a celebratory high five, because the news is good, my friends.

And if you are like me, you might even have unexpected tears. Because the things your kids will remember are a lot easier to do than we often overly-pressured parents have been led to believe. And you might already be doing some of them.

The Top Ten Things Kids Really Want Their Parents To Do With Them

1. Come into my bedroom at night, tuck me in and sing me a song. Also tell me stories about when you were little.
2. Give me hugs and kisses and sit and talk with me privately.
3. Spend quality time just with me, not with my brothers and sisters around.
4. Give me nutritious food so I can grow up healthy.
5. At dinner talk about what we could do together on the weekend.
6. At night talk to me about about anything; love, school, family etc.
7. Let me play outside a lot.
8. Cuddle under a blanket and watch our favorite TV show together.
9. Discipline me. It makes me feel like you care.
10. 10. Leave special messages in my desk or lunch bag.

Isn’t it simple?

Isn’t it beautiful?

Isn’t it achievable?

This list inspires me so much that I taped it to my fridge. It serves as a reminder that it’s the small things we do as parents that mean the most, and it is those very same things that our kids will remember when they are grown.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lazy Vacation Days: the stuff of Dreams

Notice the PJs and unkempt hair - one of those great days!

      We have an unusual Christmas break this year.  Instead of going back to school like most everyone else did today, we don't return until next week.  This is great for those people who are traveling, who have family in town, who have great things lined up to do.  But, unfortunately we don't.  Every night when getting ready for bed, I tell Kenny, "I have no idea what to do tomorrow."  And I don't.  We wake up late, we stay in our pjs, we watch TV, play board games and the kids are on their own while I try to take down Christmas decorations or as I try to purge (see old post) more and more things. 
      It doesn't help that I've been sick for over a week with a frustrating cold that has my ribs hurting from all the coughing. It's not enough sickness to keep me in bed because everyone knows you're only allowed a daytime snooze when you have a fever of 101, but it's just enough to make me a bit miserable.  But, lucky for the kids, instead of being a cranky patient, I am one easy-going mom.  Sure, you can watch a movie.  Sure, you can make your own lunch of cheese sticks and cheez-its.  Sure, we can go to Petsmart and buy a fish.  Sure,  you can play that video game again and again. 
Lydia asked me one day, "Why are you being so nice?"  Ouch. 
     One particular day we decided to try out everything we got new.  So, the kids made SNOW in a Can, Kenny made Yogurt popsicles, Elijah made root beer, and the girls made somewhat gross pretzel sticks with the Easy Bake Oven that required way too much supervision on my part. But it was somewhat satisfying to do all the activities instead of putting the gifts in a pile for a rainy day.  At our house this whole week has been treated as one rainy, cold day.  And while I hate having that pesky cough, I kind of like the slow-living. 
       These certainly aren't the Christmas vacation days of dreams (for most people.) And I feel bad for my kids when they get back to school and have to write an essay on "What I did over Christmas break" (do they still do that ?) but when I look back at my childhood Christmas breaks, we didn't take grandiose trips, we didn't go on far-out adventures with our time off either. Some years we traveled to see family, while other years we stayed put.  We hung out.  Friends came over. I played Atari. We played in our pajamas.  I braided my sister's hair.  We played card games, mostly Spite & Malice (who knows that one?), We watched Christmas specials.  I read corny pre-teen love stories way into the night. We ate lots of junk food. 
      I loved it then.  I still love it now.  We spend most of our year going, going, going, working on such little sleep that these two and a half weeks of merely nothing truly is the stuff of Christmas dreams. 
      

Happy New Year!

 My New Year was brought in with friends, loud kids, screaming, dancing, noise-makers, fireworks, and an unexpected kiss.  May your 2013 be just as joyful (but with less screaming) and full of unexpected sweetness.

The Purge

Good-bye 1999 Christmas Sweater - I take away such fond memories of you

    

 It's that time of year.   Out with the old, and out with the very old.  I have been going through my closets, kid closets, toys, blankets, bags - and if I don't donate them soon, they'll end up back where they started.  I get a bit frenetic when it comes to throwing out -- but if I think about it just two seconds too long then a memory of the item will hit me and it'll go back to the "let's just wait one more year" pile. 

Who cares if my first boyfriend gave me that XXL flannel shirt that for some reason was very popular in 1994 that was even more awful because we girls tucked them in to very high buttoned jeans -- why, why, why?? 

Who cares if that work bag has Kenny's 1st real law office job in Houston monogrammed on it?  Ahh. 

Who cares if that 100 dollar toy Santa brought two years ago is in perfect shape?  And as a sidebar - I tried selling this toy on Craigslist and received one email in return.  It said, "OMG - that's so cute!"
Does this person want this so cute item?  Is she just being friendly?  Not sure. 

Who cares if I only have 1 Christmas sweater (see pic) that I bought, not kidding, in 1999 from a store that is no longer open and that I wear once a year?
 
 What these items all have in common is NO ONE uses them, so I can either be sentimental or smart and take the time to pillage through the piles.  This year, I took the time and let me share with you what I got from being smart.  As I was going through work bags, gym bags and old back packs, I came across one that Kenny actually used a year ago when he went to Haiti with Habitat for Humanity.  As I was shaking out pens and pencils, I also came across 4 or 5 checks that he was apparently going to put in the bank but never did.  What's better than finding a 20 dollar bill in your pocket in an unwashed pair of jeans -- finding a big birthday check dated October 2011 -- to ME! Money I didn't even know I had, or forgot I ever had it.  Such a surprise --- and all for being smart, not sentimental. 

So purge, purge away and enjoy that empty shelf, or those empty hangers, or that extra room.  And if you're really good, you can dust and windex while you're at it. 

 Have I gone too far? Stick with purging, Spring cleaning doesn't rear its ugly head for a few more months.  

Something's Missing

I know I spent a week over Thanksgiving with my family.
I know we talked on Christmas Eve and Day.
I know we got their presents and called to thank them.
I know they will probably visit sometime soon.

But I miss Tulsa and would like to have gone home to see everyone. 
To my Okie family -- Have a wonderful lazy,  college football bowl-watching, still bad snack eating, Oscar movie-going, New Years resolution kind of weekend.

Love Ya'll. 

For the Love of the RV

My  kids love their grandparents, and this past week Kenny's parents, aka Grammie and Grandpa joined us for a whole week to experience Christmas in Texas.   I'm certain they would have preferred Christmas in Nebraska with its reliable cold temperatures and possibility of snow on every forecast but instead they got a few sweaty days in shorts followed by a few 30+ degree days which always brings on the best winter colds. 

When Grammie and Grandpa come to visit they always bring something new to our house - 100% attention to the kids.  What a relief that is to me and Kenny (not that we don't give our kids attention) but it's so nice to share the love.   Without even a complaint, Grammie sat on the floor and played a 4-day Monopoly game in which Elijah became a titan and she a pauper.  She sat on a different floor and watched the girls put on elaborate shows, listened to their stories, & played Barbies.  And she gladly sat in the back of the van when we traveled to make-up stories for the kids.  Completely self-less.  I think a see a glimpse of Kenny when I watch her patience with our sometimes self-absorbed kids.  Grandpa, on the other hand, gladly shared his electronic device with a game-hungry Elijah, brought his own ingredients and made the best meatloaf dinner, and helped Kenny with some very muddy backyard work.  Not to mention the gifts he made us were truly unique and I imagine, time-consuming. 

But out of all the Christmas things we did, the gifts that were brought, the time that was given, I think the #1 favorite for the kids when Grammie and Grandpa visit - is that RV. (Which I've written about before here.) There is just something magical about sleeping in a car, or what looks like an extra-big van in our driveway, or playing hide-and-seek with Grammie while in pajamas while in the small space that is the RV.  I've never actually been out to the RV while they played hide and seek so I can't vouch for how good the hiding places are, but it's a game they continue to play each visit so it must be good.  One morning they spent a good 2 hours out there doing what?  I don't know.  But I do know that the house was very quiet for awhile and that is always a nice change.  I guess this means the kids aren't the only ones who appreciate the RV.

Friends will often ask how I feel about a recreational vehicle in my driveway, but I always tell them it works.  It's a perfect fix to our non-guest bedroom, and for the love of the RV, I can't imagine a visit without it. 

A Christmas Program Funny

    There have been so many great moments to write about this past week - between Church Christmas programs, school programs, class parties, Elf on the shelf shenanigans, grandparents in town, presents, grandparents with an RV, a Christmas Eve service with a candle-light Silent Night and almost burnt hair, early, early mornings, presents, making cookies, dogs, presents, coughing kids, friends visiting with their new greyhound, temperature drops, more coughing kids, presents, movies - really, so much to share.  It's so overwhelming to know where to begin, so instead, I'm sharing a video that could stand a chance winning an AVF award.  It's just too funny to keep hidden in an old computer file.   
     I don't know if embarrassed or shocked is the right word to describe my reaction to Lanie and her Destiny's Child move on her best friend while singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.  It's a long minute and 10 seconds but you only need to see the first 10 to get a feel for how my little bully of a girl edges her way to microphone glory. I didn't even notice the cat fight until it was over.   I was so busy scanning the darling children with the glittery tinsel singing about the bright star that the wise men follow to even catch what has become my favorite Christmas program story.  Props to Ella though, she certainly didn't back down and kept that microphone front and center.  Luckily these friends are only 4 - with many girl fights to come, I suppose.  Thankfully, they end the song singing loudly, sweetly and with angelic smiles and have completely forgotten the Twinkle, Twinkle tug-of-war.
    Of course I haven't forgotten.  That's what this blog is all about.

The Photo Shoot

After coercing the kids to get dressed up on a Saturday afternoon three days before Christmas, and then telling them we'd only go to Chuck E. Cheese AFTER, we took them to a nearby lake to take some Ward family pictures.  I know in the past these type of endeavors were difficult. But my kids are older now and certainly getting 3 kids to smile while looking directly in the sun shouldn't be hard.  I was so very, very wrong and unprepared for Elijah's lackluster photo attitude and Lanie's complete stubbornness.  So after 50 shots in different places around the lake - in the grass, on steps, by a bench, in a swing, by the cactus - we ended up choosing for our 2012 Christmas card, a picture of the whole family in front of our Christmas tree (like every other year!). 

But I hate to see all those efforts go to waste, so from our very cool and apparently gangster-like family to yours, we wish you a very, merry Christmas. 

Totally not sure what my hand was doing - holding an imaginary cigarette? Hmm.

A Little House Christmas

        With the world on edge and discussions on how to handle increasing violence on every talk show, I have been stealing away from it by readings Little House on the Prairie with Elijah. We already finished Little House in the Big Woods and to be honest, they are a bit detail driven.  So much so that I don't think Elijah would ever choose to read them on his own.  But, it's been a relief for me just to live in that world for a while.  Pa made everything by hand: the walls of his house, the floor, the roof, the table and even improvised making his own nails for a door.  Ma cooked everything, sewed everything and had no problem taking a carcass from some newly shot rabbit, cleaning it out and having it ready for her hungry husband.  Brave, brave woman.  And the girls, Mary, Laura and baby Carrie who seems to sleep a lot, were content playing in the prairie grass chasing garter snakes and would never talk back or disobey Pa or Ma.  At least three times I've read:  "Children were to be seen and not heard"  and "At supper, children only spoke when spoken too."  It's a concept I can't even begin to relate to seeing that our dinners are full of noise and wiggling and mayhem.
       Laura describes her life with such fondness, her nostalgia for what was a very difficult time comes across as just the way it was.  They found such joy in Pa's fiddle playing at night and square dances with the neighbors who were a horse ride across the creek away. They found joy in simple things - a sunrise, a sturdy house, sugar with coffee, a hand-stitched doll, and a candy cane in their stocking. 

     This past week, both Elijah and Lydia went on field trips to see "A Little House Christmas" which takes several Christmas chapters from all the books and builds them into a one-act play.  The basic theme of the play is that Christmas can be blessed no matter what the circumstances, no matter how little you have.  In these days of over-abundance, that's the message I left with and it's the message that inspired our little home-made tree made of paper, popcorn and styrofoam.


    The paper snowflakes were the easiest.  The girls grabbed their safety scissors and went to work.  The popcorn strings were a little more difficult.  One night while over at our neighbor's house, I brought popcorn, needles and thread.  We adults sat around the table and competed for longest, untangled popcorn garland.  Some of us found this easier than others. 

Angel topper - before eyes & mouth

The styrofoam angel created some irony for me.  I spent more money buying crafty items to make the DIY angel topper then if I'd bought one at Hobby Lobby which would have been a simpler route.  Buying one would have taken a few minutes, but then I wouldn't have had my two-hour creative break on a Sunday afternoon, and I wouldn't have had my girls next to me painting their own projects (their hands mostly) and loving every minute of it, and our little tree would have lost its Little House-inspired qualities.  So in honor of Laura Ingalls Wilder  - we dedicate our old-fashioned tree to you. 

Coping

Everyone I know is coping with the Sandy Hook tragedy differently.   Some want to keep the televisions and radio off, some want to talk, to vent about why, why, why, some want to read every article, every Facebook page and get to know the children, the teachers, the parents, and some want to take it to God and pray for each of those families individually, not just today but every day for the weeks and months to come so that they are not forgotten.  I find myself doing all of these things depending on the moment of the day. 

There were two incidents today that brought me some perspective.  The first is a prayer written by Max Lucado that I heard on the radio this morning that reminds us that Jesus was born into a dark world to be the light, and the second was a tribute I watched on The Voice that was just sweet and lovely.  I wanted to share them with you in case you just needed something else to help you cope.  

Dear Jesus,

It's a good thing you were born at night. This world sure seems dark. I have a good eye for silver linings. But they seem dimmer lately.

These killings, Lord. These children, Lord. Innocence violated. Raw evil demonstrated.

The whole world seems on edge. Trigger-happy. Ticked off. We hear threats of chemical weapons and nuclear bombs. Are we one button-push away from annihilation?

 Your world seems a bit darker this Christmas. But you were born in the dark, right? You came at night. The shepherds were nightshift workers. The Wise Men followed a star. Your first cries were heard in the shadows. To see your face, Mary and Joseph needed a candle flame. It was dark. Dark with Herod's jealousy. Dark with Roman oppression. Dark with poverty. Dark with violence.

Herod went on a rampage, killing babies. Joseph took you and your mom into Egypt. You were an immigrant before you were a Nazarene.

Oh, Lord Jesus, you entered the dark world of your day. Won't you enter ours? We are weary of bloodshed. We, like the wise men, are looking for a star. We, like the shepherds, are kneeling at a manger.

This Christmas, we ask you, heal us, help us, be born anew in us.

Hopefully,
Your Children

  

Tears

After the devastating news this morning about Sandy Hooks Elementary in NewTown, CT - all I want to do is grab these three and hold on tight.

Many teary prayers lifted up today.  So many.

Candy Cane Conundrum

        I don't mean for this to sound folksy, like I walked two miles in the snow up hill and down to get to school.  But I have to ask -- since when did candy canes become so varied?  When I was a kid, I had one choice -- red-striped peppermint. Do you remember Smarties, Spree, Starburst and Sweetart-flavored canes? I don't.  But I recently stood at the grocery store and pondered the possibilities.  I know that variety is supposed to be the spice of life, but not for me.   This is why big department stores make me nervous. How do I know that I'm looking at everything, that I'm seeing all the clothes and styles that could fit me without wasting hours.  It's not divided into one easy Target-like shopping experience.  I'm the same way with food.  Long menus get my heart racing.  Truly, ask my husband.  I'm always the last to order.  Except with Tex-Mex - Cheese enchilada with rice and beans every time.  No delineation.  Some may call it boring, possibility predictable, but I'll just call it traditional.
So that's why out of all those purple and blue and orange, sweet, tart or long-lasting candy canes, I went old-school.  I chose red and white, purely peppermint.

A Reindeer, a Moose & an Easter Bunny

No, we're not moving.  

Yes, it was dangerous to drive Houston highways with little to no mirror usage.  

No, we're not expecting a new baby (see 6 boxes of baby diapers.) 

Yes, it's that time of year -- Delivering Gifts.  

Every Christmas, our church congregation is so generous to fulfill many gift requests from several organizations in the Houston area. And for the past 5 years, I've gotten a chance to help coordinate it.  And though it always takes more time than I think it will, it's one of the most satisfying acts of service.

This year we put 250 gift tags on the tree that requested gifts for both children and residents in nursing homes.  I am always in awe of how quickly people swoop in to choose their names.  I watch it sometimes from a distance.  I've seen little kids who search for a kid their age to help, or a name they like.  Sometimes it's an older man who chooses without even looking because his wife told him to.  Sometimes it's a busy mom who chooses the easiest gift card route.  Sometimes it's a representative from a small group who chooses the more expensive bike or the infant seat. But, sometimes an ornament goes unpicked. This year, that one left gift request was from a man named Mr. Robert, who resides in a nursing home.  His gift wish - a poster of a Harley Davidson motorcycle.  I admire Robert. Instead of crossword puzzles, socks and robes, this man asked for what he really wanted.  And of course it was fulfilled in the last minute.  How can you deny him that? 

We had some little elves help this year when we made our deliveries.  And since it's Christmas time, Lanie wanted Christmas accouterments for her and the other two elves joining us.  (Lanie didn't use the word accouterments.  I just never get to use such a fun word.)  The problem is, after digging through our play clothes piles, we couldn't find enough. So, for this Christmas delivery to Casa de Esperanza (I'll plug it because they do such amazing work), our little helpers were a reindeer, a moose and of course - the Easter bunny.  We certainly had variety.  But they were good workers, pushing, carrying and playing, sometimes fighting over every toy they ushered in.  The most exciting part to them - playing in a empty, seat-less van.  The most important part to me - giving them a glimpse of real giving. 

Christmas Kitten

The tree is FINALLY up!  It took over a week, but the task is done.  Now that we are finally through with toddlers and keeping the breakable ornaments away from little arm's reach, we have this little monster to deal with.  It's been so long since we've had a kitten in our home.   You forget how much they love to chew pine, even if it's fake.  You forget how much they love to sleep under the heat of the lights.  You forget how much they love to climb anything that looks like a tree. And though you can't tell from this picture, this is halfway up to the top.   You forget how much they love to bat around hanging things that shine, and break them. And you forget how much more work it is to have a Christmas kitten.  But really, isn't this picture great?

The Attic Rule

      I tell this story a lot, but several years ago when Elijah was maybe 4-years-old, he asked his dad if he could help him get the Christmas decorations out of the attic.  Kenny said no, and that he had to be 7-years-old to get up in the attic.  Now, of course there is no hard and fast rule about attics being off limits to those six and under.  There isn't a sign on the attic door that says you have to be a certain height to pass the threshold.  Kenny just threw out a number off-the-cuff to his over-anxious preschooler.  This was one of those moments where we realized that kids have fantastic memories and that our words can stick.  The following year, same time, same place, Elijah, now age five,  remembered and asked if he would be able to go up in the attic in two more years when he turned seven.   I recall hiding my smirk and catching Kenny's eye because who knew that small decision would hold such weight. 
     Now, fast forward four more years and Elijah, now a big 9-year-old with sisters who haven't yet reached the 7-year mark, loves to gloat that he can go up, but they can't.  He did reassure Lydia that next year would be HER year.  As much as I tell them that there's nothing interesting in our unfinished attic but pink installation and piles of boxes, the fact that the girls can't go all the way up there (because of that split second decision years ago) makes it so, so appealing.  Elijah did agree that they could go up the ladder as high as their age.  Nice, right?  There's some kind of psychology study in that, I'm sure. 
    After a couple of tries, I got this blurry pic of my stair-step kids.
    One day when we're forcing them to go in the hot attic to find something for us that we don't want to search for, I'll remind them of this anticipation as they held fast to the attic rule.

My Rag-Tag Crew

This weekend kicked off Christmas program season.  Our first one was at the little church (as opposed to the big church) where we split worship to support both of our Epiphany campuses.  This was a program that almost didn't happen due to some major changes happening in the church which I'm a bit too emotional and raw about to even get into.  So, I won't and instead will talk about program #1 and my kid's performances.  This was a Christmas theatre where the kids would perform a bit, then we'd have salad, then they'd perform some more, and we'd have a main dish, and then more singing, and then dessert.  This is our third year doing this, and it's so fun, and in such an intimate space, always endearing.  Because we were on again, off again, on again at whether we'd even be here for it, the kids didn't get a speaking part or the songs they were singing until the weekend before. So what we had were a lot of faces planted in music sheets, flailing halos, unkempt hair, and angel dresses dragging to the floor due to my poor hemming skills.  And so memorable. 

This very short clip is the best I could find that portrayed my threesome in true sibling fashion.  Lydia is working her new reading skills, following each line of music, oblivious to anyone around her.  Next is Elijah, totally aware of my recording who tries to play aloof at his little sister's inability to stand still.  And then there's Lanie, always marching to her own beat in her head, trying to wrangle this rag-tag team in for a family pic.