The Silence After the Shouting

We had a Winter Family Christmas-- it has not happened, I think since, Lindsey's brother went on his mission-- which is close to Ten years ago. We were living in California, Debbie and Ron were in Texas, Lindsey's parents lived in the Log house. Lindsey's Dad was alive. Lindsey's mom bought a bright play set that could be set up in the house for the little kids to play on, becuase it was cold and rainy that winter. We still have the play set in our backyard.
Grant flew in. Debbie, Ron and three Girls drove over-- they all spent the Christmas Eve at our house. We all opened pajama, which is not a regular tradition of our but which was a smashing success in the pictures for Christmas. We at our barbaqued tri-tip with mashed potatoes and mushroom gravey and lapped it up with Grandma Barabara's butter rolls. We read our When Mary Went to Bethlehm book. And snuggled the kids into bed.
We opened presents-- which was amazing to see all the gifts that fit under the tree. I know for myself that I was feeling over Feed with presents. We ate Crepe with cinnamon and sugar, a Winter family tradition. And promptly went back to bed, Emily complaining of tiredness and her mother obliging her with a snuggle that lasted for 2 1/2 fabulous hours. I believe that tradition of napping on Christmas day will continue for years to come.
Vickie and three kids came that afternoon for some "Cousin Time" and it was wonderful for my kids to reconnect. Then the phone call came from Aunt Pat "Do not leave that house, there are white out conditions in the City" And so, with a laugh we pulled out a few more sleeping bags and wondered if anyone had brushed there teeth since before Christmas; put the tired lot to bed while the mom's watched a movie on my new Gorgeous Bed! We were snug, but the giggles and more giggles was worth any minor inconvience in the use of the bathrooms. Or waiting for your turn to sit at the table.
Before Christmas-- We were feeling like our house was fitting tightly with all the snow that we've had the last couple of weeks, making the kids come inside from the cold. Then we experience the Russian FolkTale for our selves-- the one about bringing all the farm yard animals into the house, Bring the cow inthe wise woman says, then days later the wise woman recommends bringing the chickens in, and the goat-- the house gets more cramped, and more cramped and then the very wise woman tells them to take all the animals out of the house and the house felt HUGE. The noise that just days earlier was driving me to insanity was bliss. The mess that was left in the bedroom, sure joy-- and the part in the tale that isn't told is after having company how there is an emptiness when they leave.
This Christmas was about making Lindsey's mom smile during the Holiday instead of hiding her tears.
This Christmas was about putting smiles on faces who have had a hard time of things. Friends who laughed at our short and sweet (and slightly out of tune, but very loud) We wish you and Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! The song seemed to lite a bit of hope in some peoples eyes, and break the spell of frosty, snow, packed silence in our neighborhood. We walked the slippery street, and climbed in and out of the car-- laughing and crying... but leaving a bit of love to all those people who have loved us this year.
Christmas this year was a yearning for my children not to see the gifts but feel of the sacrifice and the love that went into the gift.
Christmas this year was about talking about Jesus, because he's not a baby, but if he hadn't been a baby then he'd never have been the man. And the Man is the one who made all the difference in the World. And although his story is in movies, pop- up books and songs -- its because He's real: He is Christmas-- More Christ, the reason for the season! Because really in the dead of winter there is not much to celebrate. And the twinkling lights, and the singing, and the gifts remind us to Look up and find the Star that leads to Heaven and maybe a bit of Heaven on Earth at home.

Birthday BuZz!

There are times in your life that everything comes together in a harmonious chime. This rarely, if ever, happens on My Birthday. I usually have unrealistic expectations of what should happen and when. I usually am too _______ (fill in your favorite exhasperation) from the beginning of the hussel and bussel of December and to top it off I want to be celebrated too: I want Amazing. I want new shoes, a pretty shirt and my hair to behave-- its an attitude of put together that isn't with me the rest of the year but I desperately aspire to, on the one day of the year that I think mostly about me and what I want-- my Birthday!
The paradox of the day is that it becomes painfully obvious to me all the things that I am not. I guess the beauty of this Birthday is that it was full of ALL the things that I am, and the melody was not in disharmony with my new image of myself. Let me give you a quick run down:
I love bright color on my toes-- they are fiesta purple
I love good food with friends-- a few of my friends suprised me with lunch at Macaroni Grill.
I love conversations that have you holding your sides and face from laughing: the conversation was so lively, it had me giggling for days.
my own dear family: we went ice skating at Seven Peaks with my Brother's work party, it was so much fun and for only my second time I did pretty good. (I didn't fall once)
I wore a new purple shirt, that is totally me
I had my hair cut the day before which made me feel great.
And although this is wierd it is part of a fantastic day-- earlier that week I had me teeth cleaned. I know this about myself now. I like freshly polished teeth.
Lastly, really its nice to be validated as a person, why it needs to be on my Birthday another chat with the psychiatrist. I am so grateful for the people in my life who like me, and are my friends. I am so grateful for my husband who is more talented and geniunine, and calls me Beautiful. Which at first grated my nerves and now is like the purr of a content kitten.

Christmas smells

I just read my first Christmas Story of the season to my children. I tripped into the attic to extract the overly heavy box. It was dusty. It smelled weird like sweaty, heated paper, with a hint of stale nail polish. But, the familiarity of the books themselves remind me of the smell of cinnamon which will forever be remind me of my mother. And the pictures on the covers reminded me of, the laughing of my seven siblings as we sang goofy (total hacks on the classic) Christmas carols. And the smell of heated bodies ripe for the shower mingled with pull apart bread my mother baked.
There is something about Christmas that makes my heart a bit tight. Not in the Grinch sort of way, I don't consider my heart two sizes to small. No there is a longing so dear, and a need too great-- a soft melancholy catches me off guard every year, while I try to recreate the perfect Christmas of my memory, which is more imagination then reality. The Spirit of Christmas is exacerbated by my desire to do more than is humanly possible. This desire to do more be more is at its best and worst.
My children all said:
Christmas smells like bacon cooking in the morning, or sausage added by Dallin. (Carter)
Sugar and Cinnamon, with licking your buttered fingers after a batch of pull aparts. (Kelly)
Funny, it feels like it smells like pine trees, but I know we have a fake tree! (Jonathan)
I think Christmas smells musty like a closed container, then comes to life when it hears the sounds of children's delighted squeals, and drums, horns, strings from the glorious Christmas music, and more to life when we say things like, "remember when" and "I remember that".
I think it smells too sweet till you look at the pictures from last year and then know that not a single moment was too much, and there were several that just weren't enough.
the smell of Christmas is more a feeling then an actual olfactory sensation-- its like a memory you start in your mouth.