Seasonal

What a year.

So, here is your Christmas card.
If you are a diehard,
you can print us out and put us up on your wall
so you can prove to all incomers
that you really do have friends.

This year was the kind
that we didn’t have a professional photo.
We also didn’t want to spend for the
cost of printing and mailing.

To put it lightly,
our family has been tried tremendously.
To put it honestly,
we have walked through hell
and we are hoping that we are on our way back.

It was the kind of year that made me grateful
for a simple family snapshot.
Even if it was
as an afterthought,
and we ended up with a crappy backdrop,
and the sun was in our eyes.

You see
we were on our way to church,
together.

And together
is
huge.
It’s more than anyone can ask for.

This morning
I realized that I wanted a living record
of the end of this year,
as I looked at my daughters
and the love of my life.
We were all in the colors,
black, white, and red.

And I saw that as a great representation
of a very hard year.

We are all
still trying to do the right things.
Together.
And that pretty much sums it up.
God has held us together
in the palm of His hand.

And I am extremely
humbled
and
grateful.
And happy.

I look forward in faith.
Even if the sun has been blinding.
And what better Christmas message is there?

My daughters would not be any more beautiful
with a professional photo to prove it.
My marriage would not be as strong
without the trials and intense work.
My friends would not have reached out to us
in such love
without our pain.
Our gratitude for loving parents
would not be as deep
without the struggle.
And our testimony of a loving God
would not be as intimate.

I think we have every reason
to
rejoice.

Jesus Christ makes all things possible.
He is love and light.
He will blind you
if that is what it takes
to heal you,
to love you,
and
to know you.

And when you get through it,
you will be grateful for a sun so bright.
Even if it hurt temporarily.

Merry Christmas to you.
Especially if the sun is blinding your eyes.

Happy Birthday Jesus Christ

Thanks to my bloggy friend Sheila for this share.
It brought tears to my eyes and greater love to my heart.
There is something special about
this child’s narration to the greatest story of all mankind.

I love MY Jesus.
He is all mine.
And He is yours.
He is the Savior of all mankind.
Whether they accept it individually or not.

He condescended from the realms on high,
to be born in a stable.
And this year,
His lowly beginnings
have been a fervant reminder
that God wants me to know
that things don’t matter.

Only one thing is needful,
and that is Jesus Christ.
He is the way, the truth, and the life.

And I love the time of year when
people treat each other with greater kindness.
It’s the kind of birthday present we all can enjoy.
And that is so like Jesus.
He never asks something of us
that won’t make us happier.

Christmas Pageants

Every Christmas I try to read

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

with my children.

It is one of my all time favorite books.

Of course it consists of two of my most favorite things:

laughter and the Savior of the world.

I have the book that my Aunt Shirley

gifted to my family one year.

I treasure it.

My Aunt Shirley loves literature like I do.

I want to grow up to be like her one day.

She writes better than me.

I am of the opinion that Christmas Pageants

should only be given by children or professionals.

A few years ago they had LG dress up like a wise man

and I just thought it was pure mockery.

Especially since they had him dressed in the costume

that was obviously meant for an African.

He was one big white African King.

Well, anyhow, somebody forwarded me an e-mail

with a funny little Christmas pageant tale.

It showcases WHY exactly children are the ones to give any pageant.

THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

My husband and I had been happily
married (most of the time)
for five years
but hadn’t been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God
that if he would give us a child,
I would be a perfect mother,
love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word
as my guide.

God answered my prayer s
and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us
with another son.

The following year,
He blessed us with
yet another son.

The year after that we
were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we’d
been blessed right into poverty.
We now had four children,
and the oldest was only
four years old.

I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me,
“If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella.”

I began reading a few verses
of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start.
God had entrusted me
with four children a nd
I didn’t want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day
the children smashed
two dozen eggs on
the kitchen floor searching
for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding…

when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom,

although it took me nearly two hours
to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured
ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog,
I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over
twenty-five thousand diapers,
never eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more
than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn’t keep my promise
to be a perfect mother –
I didn’t even come close…
I did keep my promise
to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark
just a little when I told
my daughter we were going
to church to worship God,
and she wanted to bring
a bar of soap along to
“wash up” Jesus, too.

Something was lost
in the translation when
I explained that
God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his “last wife.”

My proudest moment came
during the children’s
Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary,
two of my sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd
had practiced his line,
“We found the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes.”

But he was nervous and said,
“The baby was wrapped
in wrinkled clothes.”

My four-year-old “Mary” said,
“That’s not ‘wrinkled clothes,’ silly.

That’s dirty, rotten clothes.”

A wrestling match broke out
between Mary and the shepherd
and was stopped by an angel,
who bent her halo and lost
her left wing.

I slouched a little lower
in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced
down the aisle crying,
“Mama-mama.”

Mary grabbed the doll,
wrapped it back up
and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward
wearing a bathrobe
and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger
and announced,
“We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts
of gold,
common sense
and fur.”

The congregation
dissolved into laughter,
and the pageant
got a standing ovation.

“I’ve never enjoyed a Christmas
program as much as this one,”
laughed the pastor ,
wiping tears from his eyes

“For the rest of my life,
I’ll never hear the
Christmas story without
thinking of
gold, common sense
and fur.”

“My children are my pride
and my joy and my greatest
blessing,” I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin..

Yesterday at church

somebody read Wally’s Christmas Pageant.

It was also a heartwarming tale.

which supports my idea of

children being the best actors for a pageant.

I cried as Wally the innkeeper

felt compassion and interceded with

“Wait, you can have my room.”

This made me ponder on what I am willing to give.

Sometimes I don’t even think I am smart enough

to give up my own room;

even when I have promised to give everything.

I will end this Christmas post with

my favorite

Christmas poem.

In the Bleak Midwinter – Christina Rosetti 1872.

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty,

Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim

Worship night and day,

A breastful of milk

And a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel

Which adore.

Angels and archangels

May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

Thronged the air,

But only His mother

In her maiden bliss,

Worshiped the Beloved

With a kiss.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb,

If I were a wise man

I would do my part,

Yet what I can I give Him,

Give my heart.

I hope that I can give Him my heart.

My whole heart.

Every day.

And be like Him.

More selfless.

I know

that

just how I enjoy

unexpected outcomes from

funny Christmas pageants,

He accepts

my best attempts at worship.

No matter how

unorthodox.

Or how

far from

perfection

they are.

Because the imperfect kind

are often the best

and most meaningful.

Better Blogs and Christmas Cheer

I am not in a blogging mood.

I am more occupied with negotiating Christmas with my husband,

who apparently doesn’t want to buy our kids any sort of magical Christmas gift.

Can I say the man is imagination challenged

without spurring on my haters

to call me to repentance?

Do you know that the father of my children

let Santa’s cat out of the bag

three years ago?

Oh, Yes he did!!!

Our kids were 8,5, and 4.

And they now think the world of their daddy.

Because he is Santa and the tooth fairy.

But I am still struggling to forgive.

Because I believe in magic.

And Harry Potter.

But because of all the things I have been learning lately,

I will not Christmas shop until LG and I are on the same page.

Because that is what Dave Ramsey says.

And that is what the Bible says.

And who can argue with the Bible or Dave Ramsey?

And I have to say after reading the Bible just now

and hearing God’s admonition to reverence my husband,

I am feeling guilty about this whole post.

I guess I will have to repent.

Once I do I am sure that

our marriage will prevail.

One challenge at a time.

Even if everything seems to be a challenge lately.

I think Christmas should not be a challenge.

Who knew two people could be married

for 13 years

and never be on the same page?

This year if anything,

we will be on the same page.

And both of us will be happy with what is under the tree.

Even if it is only due to the generosity of others.

And hours of negotiation.

I’ve said it a million times before

but

2011

is gonna be our year.

Next Christmas will bring no negotiation.

And that will be LG’s best gift to me.

The fact that he cared enough to negotiate this one.

If that makes any sense.

From now on,

we will hopefully be on the same Christmas page.

Is that just wishful thinking?

The older I get, the more I think

that life is really just one negotiation after another.

T’was the night before Christmas

and all through our house,

no raised voice was heard,

because we’re espoused.

We negotiated until our hearts

were content.

And now the wife will not overspend

and have need to repent.

But, I will have to repent about the reverencing the man.

How can I reverence Santa Claus?

Huh? Huh?

He’s fictional.

I hope your kids don’t read this blog.

Or maybe they should.

Because then my husband will have some more

little people to reverence him.

He needs that.

Since he isn’t getting it from me.

Well anyhow.

I wanted to share some better blogs.

For my loyal readers

who I have just left totally confused.

But before I do.

Really, how do you married people

agree about Christmas?

Just curious.

Did you negotiate year 1

and never argue again?

Or do you still fight about it?

I love my husband.

A lot.

I want to be on the same page.

Even if his page is to pay the bills

and give the kids as little as possible.

And mine is to make Santa magical.

There has to be a good medium.

Do you ever even think about these things?

Are all other married couples like us.

I can remember my parents always fighting over Christmas.

Mom wanted to make it magical

and dad didn’t want to go into debt.

I wonder if this is the same story in every household?

So, on with the real fun.

My friends all have it figured out.

They don’t blog about their private business,

leaving their blogs actually entertaining.

Unlike mine.

There is good reason why I am not blogging right now.

Check out Cally’s homemade gift tags.

And Lori’s movie making skills.

And Erika’s honesty.

Jeremy’s love for an awesome father, who just passed on,

and made me have a greater desire not to fight over stupid stuff.

Gina’s photography.

Jennifer’s yummy food.

Rachel’s consistent gratitude, maturity, and resilience in the midst of battling childhood cancer.

There are definitely a lot better blogs out there.

But at least many of them belong to my friends.

I am off to make a spreadsheet for my husband.

Maybe it will help if I speak his language.

I’m thankful for

frozen pies

frozen rolls

a turkey small enough to fit in my crockpot

redbox codes for FIVE free redboxes

(yes, we will probably watch all five in one day)

a family who is happy to spend time all by ourselves

a fridge full of food

a good book or the fourth good book in four days

friends who are smart and kind and thoughtful

(even when just an hour before doing something extremely thoughtful

they swore they were never thoughtful)

a singing baby in footed jammies and curls

(I always wanted ONE daughter with curly hair)

a place to live, no matter how humble

coupons

good weather

a working washer and dryer

cragislist – I made $20 today

good good kids (the best)

a husband I love

faith

peace

hope

grace

love

and

did I mention frozen pies?

and Sister Schubert rolls?

A Summer Pace

I love summer because it allows for my Southern California beach pace of life to be lived guilt free. I have NO AMBITION in the summer and I prefer it that way. However I do not subscribe to a belief that ALL people should live this way. To each is own. I apologize profusely to you Stacey if my teasing hurt your feelings. We are definitely different animals, but I want you to know that I believe there is room for both of us in the same animal kingdom. Just as there is room for bees and sloths. You would be the bee, I would be the sloth.

I teased my new friend Stacey for her differences and she recently wrote about it on her blog. I wrote a comment back to my friend Stacey in response to her blog post about being teased for her rigid summer schedule, I thought it was worth a good share.

Here are my feelings about a summer pace. I am sure some of you will be horrified and I hope with all my heart that some of you will back me up on my lazy summer lifestyle.

Hi, my name is Alice and I am the teaser. I feel perfectly comfortable teasing people because I welcome them to dish it back.

It is 4:00 and I am sitting here in my underwear reading your blog. I just got up from a 2 hour nap. M yhouse isn’t looking so hot today and the folded laundry has been sitting out on my sewing table since Monday waiting to be put away.

I don’t have an affinity for T.V. and my kids usually get bored with it after a couple of movies, and by afternoon we explore ideas on what they would like to do with this lazy summer day.

Once a week, I get really ambitious and take my kids to play group and on Monday’s we go to the library. Besides that we try to go with the flow and try to underschedule in the summer to make up for the overscheduling during the school year.

I need to teach my kids better responsibility. I probably need more scheduling in my life and even though I tease for fun but also really think you could stand for some flexibility, I think you are great mom. Everyone needs to be comfortable in their own skin and this is what really matters.

When both of your kids get in school and you are scheduled to the second all school year, you may find yourself on some distant summer day undressed at 4:00 and you may even be totally fine with it.

I love you Stacey and I am so glad you are my friend. And secretly I am jealous of all the things that you and your kids are experiencing this summer. We aren’t too driven around here. Our only goal is to eat one box of otter pops per week.

Yes, there is a Santa Claus

After a recent depressing blog post,

I received an outpouring of love.

It was truly a miracle.

A Christmas miracle.

I had tried not to talk about our deplorable situation.

I didn’t want to be needy.

Or ungrateful.

I also didn’t want to make my husband feel bad.

Because he has been busting his tail.

But when one is building his own business straight out of college,

it is rough. Really rough.

And even rougher when you have a family to support.

This has been the worst fiscal year of our lives.

And that says a lot.

Because you all know we were in law school with three kids.

And we lived on less than $18,000 a year.

For those who aren’t Mormon.

You gotta know that Mormons keep a supply of food for emergencies.

Months back, we lived on that food for the first time in our married lives.

After months of living like this, I finally fell apart on my blog.

I threw it out there.

And I only threw a small portion

of the load that I had been carrying.

As to not make anyone feel bad.

Especially my husband.

Who I honor, respect, and admire.

Shortly after I threw it out there,

Miracles started to happen.

(LG sarcastically remarked that I should have begged on the blog earlier,

like when the kids needed shoes for school.)

I can’t even think about some of them without crying.

For instance,

A friend I haven’t spoken to in years called and asked what she could buy my girls for Christmas.

She had read the blog and felt inspired.

I am deeply grateful for all of the little miracles in 2009.

God has been good to us.

But one miracle in particular,

deserves a special mention.

A special mention

because

I met the wife of Santa Claus

when she found my blog years ago.

I would have never known Santa Claus without the blog.

Did you know that Santa really lives in Nevada?

Last week I got an e-mail from him.

The message line.

Yes, Abigail, Sophia, Bella, Caroline..there is a Santa Claus.

Along with it there was a notice to pick up a trampoline at our local Wal-Mart.

Santa’s wife had read my blog.

She notified her kind and generous husband of a Christmas need.

It wasn’t really a need, but a want.

A want on the Christmas list.

A want that some down and destitute parents could have never fulfilled.

And they would have never asked for help.

Because it was just a want.

And their kids had what they needed.

And the kids had become very aware that the basic necessities of life were blessing enough.

They could ask Santa for some amazing gift,

but he probably would be too busy helping some even more destitute kids in Africa.

But guess what?

Santa wasn’t too busy.

And on one day of the year,

nothing was too much to want.

Because on one day of the year.

Miracles happen.

And some precious little girls in Knoxville, TN got a trampoline.

Even when their parents had told them repeatedly

that Santa had kids to feed in Africa.

And would probably be too busy.

And one very little blogger.

with a very small readership.

Got her Christmas miracle too.

Santa Claus read her blog.

And on Christmas Day,

he made her husband smile.

Really smile.

And that is all she wanted.

And she had wanted that for a very long time.

Ever since last Christmas.

But she thought Santa was too busy in Africa.

But, Santa was in Nevada.

And he not only read my blog.

But he made miracles happen at my house.

That is so like him.

I heard this song on the radio the evening of Christmas.

I bawled my eyes out.

That evening my prayer went something like this:

Give Santa a halo for me, will ya?

Oh, and send his wife a big fat kiss.

God’s Love

Back on the 4th of July, I experienced a mothering moment that helped me comprehend the love of God.

We were at a friend’s house and sparklers were passed around to all of the kids. Many of us adults were sitting several yards away on the porch just chatting and enjoying our food.

My mother in law was holding our new baby Caroline, yet amazingly enough, still watching over our older kids with sparklers better than I was hands free. She said, “Alice, you better go and check on Bella. I think something is wrong.”

I sauntered over only to discover Bella with one shoe off sitting on the ground holding her big toe apart from the one right next to it. As long as I live, the smell of her burning flesh will never leave me. A remnant of her sparkler had fallen into the hole of her croc. and melted away her flesh. A few days later, when I was worried infection might be spreading, I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me that she had third degree burns.

And for inquiring minds, we were prescribed some good burn ointment and figured out how to wedge gauze between the toes so that the air could get to the wound and she is now as good as new.

Back to the story. Finding Bella suffering from this burn was very disheartening to me. I was so upset that I hadn’t noticed her jump around in pain. I was saddened the she didn’t cry out for help. I was compassioned that she was sitting in a state of shock and doing a mighty fine job of “being tough”. The girl didn’t even cry until I told her it was o.k.

The next day, on our way to church, I was expressing my feelings to LG. “Why didn’t she scream?”, I lamented. I felt horrible that somehow I had taught my child to be too tough and that for some reason I had not given her permission to hurt or to scream out for help when she needed it the most.

A little further down the road to church, it struck me like a ton of bricks. I could not hold back my emotion. I sat silently as tears streamed down my face. I had experienced for my child what God must experience so often for all of his children. I am sure at times he also laments, “Why don’t they scream?”

Because of the feelings I experienced while pondering upon Bella, I know that God, our Father, is there to help us. He doesn’t want us to suffer alone. He is a perfect God, and unlike this sometimes oblivious mother, he notices every time we get burned. We may not approach him because we think it is hopeless or that we aren’t worthy of his love. (Just as Bella never screamed out because maybe she thought she would be in trouble) But, as his children, we are always worthy of his love. He cannot stop loving us no matter how badly we have acted. Sometimes we may even think we did something wrong when really we haven’t. Sometimes maybe somebody else handed us a sparkler and we took it without realizing what damage it could do.

We may not seek his help because we think we are tough and that we can handle it, which may very well be true. But, why do we insist on doing it alone when he is watching over us so diligently? He is the ultimate water source. He is like the soothing jacuzzi pictured above. And when we fail to seek him, it’s as if we choose the pathetic path of spitting upon our own wounds, when he can pour out the most refreshing waterfall. Need I remind you that his waterfall is naturally flowing all of the time and is there whether we tap into it or not.

Bella was being tough; she didn’t think that she needed my help. Without totally realizing the severity of the burns at the time, I grabbed Bella by the hand and walked over to a water source. I kick myself now when I think that I made her limp over and I didn’t pick her up and carry her to safety.
God is perfect. He can pick us up. He will let us limp only if it is absolutley necessary for us to learn something. Otherwise he will always carry us to safety. I know this to be true.

I hope that I will never error again by being too tough for God. Because after this experience, I have learned that when I am too tough, he has to sit back and watch me suffer, and that is the last thing he wants to do. I know it. I know it because I would take a million burns over my own body, until my death if necesssary, than to ever smell the burning flesh of my own child ever again. Or if she absolutely has to experience that burn, I at LEAST want to hold her up while she does.

Jeremiah 31:3 “…I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore
with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.”