In which I've been a horrible blogger...

Merry Christmas!  I haven't been much of a blogger of late.  I wish it were due to the fact I'm scribbling away at an amazing manuscript, but I can't say that in the slightest.  It has truly been a lack of motivation on my part, and for that I must apologize.  Perhaps a new resolution in the coming weeks will help?  I doubt it, but one can hope!

We had an amazing and quiet Holiday this year.  Abbie was sick all of Christmas Eve, and with that, we didn't do all of our traditional Christmas observances.  Yes, we did get out our little "Christmas" dishes, but where she wasn't able to keep anything down, only Daniel and Nigel participated.  We did read the Christmas story from Luke 2, as always, but Abbie was in bed by 6:30, so it was a little earlier and quieter than normal.

Luckily the sickness passed and Christmas morning brought smiles, and joy to our household.  Here are some pictures of our day, along with a few from earlier in the week with a family party and Christmas recital.  I post more to Facebook, but this is just a sampling.

As the year winds to a quick close, I am sure we will start pondering New Year's resolutions, (something I hate!) and I vow to write more.  I have a quandary that I have been mulling over, and putting words down may make it the decision for me.  May you and yours have a marvelous continuation of the Holiday season!  All our love to our family and friends!

It's Snowing

It is snowing today, although it did start out as rain.  I think that fall is turning into winter quickly, and I'm not sure I'm ready.  We did get Nige a new coat over the weekend, as he is growing by leaps and bounds.  Just in the nick of time, I'd say.  I've been watching the flakes fall outside my office window, with my space heater cranked up to dry my tootsies.

While we are embarking on the Holiday season of Thanks and Giving, I thought I would share our Halloween memories from this year. Another wet day, but it was fun nonetheless.  My Indy and mad scientist had a blast, until they were too wet to keep going.

Nigel as Indiana Jones

They are getting too big!

All the ratting and spraying of her hair was a chore.  It was awesome for about 20 minutes though.

Abbie and her science experiment and Nige freaking out about a possible explosion.

As we continue in our crazy, out of control life, my days flow into one another, and before I know it, Christmas will have come and gone.  Oh to slow the hands of the clock and enjoy the moments before they are gone forever.

Viewing Old Glory

I’ve had a number of blog posts running through my head, and just haven’t taken the time to put them down on paper.  Because of our observance of Independence Day, I thought I would share some thought I have regarding this almost spiritual holiday.

While serving a mission for my church back in the mid ‘90s, I spent a time in an area where a number of foreign embassies had offices.  During one of the hot humid days of summer (probably sometime in February or early March), while riding one of the modes of public transportation, we skirted the edge of the grounds of the U.S Embassy.  Peeking through the trees I was able to catch a glimpse of Old Glory, waving in the slight breeze.  Without a moment’s hesitation, tears welled up in my eyes and I was filled with a burning of patriotic pride.  Suddenly, it was the 4th of July for me and my companion.  Home was just a few steps away before the bus turned the corner and continued on through the streets of Uruguay.  Never before in my life had the flag incited such a feeling of warmth and desire.  It took me spending time on what I considered foreign soil to appreciate the symbolism of our flag.  I still love and adore my time in Uruguay, and will consider it my second home for the rest of my life, but there is something that changed inside me that day, where I felt as though I was far from home, but I was proud to be an American.

The past few years we have celebrated the 4th with a cannon firing and time with family and friends.  A parade of children waving flags, a prayer, and much food is to be enjoyed.  It has become a favorite holiday for many, me included.  The laughter, the games, and the sparklers to be handed out at dusk have become as traditional as the holiday itself.

Growing up, I did enjoy the fiery festivities that came about with each 4th of July.  While I was taught from an early age to respect the flag, honor and support those who fought for our freedom, it never touched as close to home as it did last year.  This month marks the anniversary of a fallen soldier in our family.  I saw sheer, raw emotion last year as I watched men, surrounding the hearse, standing watch, each with a flag, protecting the fallen soldier while those inside the building paid their respects.  I was acutely aware of the sacrifice given, and the respect of those who stood, lined along our route to the cemetery, holding flags, heads bowed in deference to the one who was gone.  I will never again here the song Taps played when I will not think of my freedom and its great cost.

This year, our observance was reverent, and we spent the day at church, worshipping, exercising the right to worship the God we chose, in the place we chose, and how we intended.  We avoided the flashy displays of fireworks, and brass bands.  It was a most spiritual time of reflection and solitude.  I am humbled to live where I can worship, celebrate, and honor those I wish.  Oh, we will still have the flashy display of patriotism later in the month as we visit with family and friends on the holiday our state has set aside to remember those who founded it.  The cannon will still be fired by Grandpa, who will deliver a discourse on the history of those who have served and lost lives, and flags will be waved by little ones, eager to participate.  We will gorge ourselves on beef brisket and at dusk, the sparklers will be handed out.

As the years pass, I’m sure we will be lulled back into the festive nature of our Independence Day observances.  For now, I’m glad to have the quiet time to really reflect on my freedom and the sacrifice paid by so many.

A Candle in the Window

Many years ago, as a youth, one of my church leaders gave me a candle with a story attached to it as a Christmas gift.  It was a small tealight, not very large, and cost a few pennies to give.  The story however has lasted long since the flame of the candle died out and gave way to a tradition that I have honored every Christmas eve since that time, except for the time I spent in Uruguay, when my dear mother kept up the tradition while I was away, and placed a candle in the window of my room to remind her of me.  I give you my own variation of the tradition of the candle in the window.

Driving through neighborhoods in this day and age, you are likely to see a candle or two in the windows, many representing the light of Christ, or the love of hearth and home.  While this is a wonderful representation, it isn't exactly why, every Christmas eve, I put a lighted taper in my window for all to see.

I shall have to paraphrase the story that went with my little candle from so long ago.  The paper has somehow gone missing over the years, but the sentiment has been en graven in my heart, so I believe I can do it justice.  It may or not be a true story, as I can not verify it anywhere, but I think the message speaks to us just the same.

During World War II there were many in Europe whose homes were void of light due to the blackout restrictions.  This saddened that many residents, but many would still observe the traditions of placing a candle in their window on Christmas Eve.  One old couple, who lived on the outskirts of a small village had prepared their Christmas and were planning to retire for the evening.  Outside their small home, the wind howled and snow swirled in a blizzard of gigantic proportions.  The husband, placed a small candle in the window, and they both made their way to bed.  After a few hours, they were awoken from their sleep by a pounding on the door.  Standing in the snow, was a soldier, lost from his unit, and frozen to the bone.  The couple took him in and shared from their meager store, and set him by the fire to warm himself.  When asked how he found them, he answered, "I followed the light of your candle.  I knew there I would find God-fearing people who would welcome me in."

Since reading this story, I've placed a candle in my window every Christmas eve, to welcome any forlorn travelers, whether they are lost physically, spiritually, or both.  I want my home to be a haven for those seeking refuge from the storm of life.  Every year, the candle sits in the window, light flickering and reflecting off the pane, reminding me to be that light.  It has become something that I do for myself, to remind me of the true meaning of Christmas, to be Christ-like.  To serve others as He served, to bless others as He blessed.

Tomorrow night will be no different that any other Christmas eve.  I will find a candle, lift the blinds, turn out the lights and put a match to the wick.  The orange flame will cast a glow about the room and I will offer a prayer of gratitude for all I have and all I can share.  It is my Christmas tradition, not born from anything other than my love of the Savior and all He has given me.  Merry Christmas to you, and may you always have a candle in the window of your heart!

*Thanks to Google for the image*

My Holiday Plans

It’s snowing today.  Right now, tiny droplets, frozen into crystal facets, are falling gently to the ground.  The walks are barren, an eerie silence encompassing the ground.  It seems quite appropriate for the season.

I’m feeling that anticipation and excitement that comes every year about this time, when I start to count the hours to Christmas.  I’m very glad I found my spirit, because I’m sure without it, the barren walks and silence would cause some unease.  But to me, it is calm, almost like the pause before a great storm.

The storm I am anticipating is not unwelcome; it is of my own creation.  I am not quite sure how the storm will weather my life, but it will make choices clearer and the path more evident; at least that is my hope.

When I woke up this morning, the fog was covering the world in a heavy blanket.  The streetlight made only a small globe of light before being swallowed up in the dense gray.  What I would have done, to only sit at the window and create a character to emerge from the swirling doom.  But, the real world awaited and the day had to begin.  I left those thoughts in a corner of my mind, and they became swallowed up by the others who have residence there, a concoction of real and imaginary.

I put this out there publicly, perhaps to give myself the push to carve out time for what I love.  The urge is there, like a fist pushing between my shoulder blades, a constant pressure.  It isn’t an unpleasant feeling, but something that is my constant companion.  After many false starts and stops, deleting files, (I write digitally you know), ripping pages out of notebooks, and lamenting my perfectionist attitude, I am letting it all go.  I shall sit and write.  And write.  I will let the dialog flow as it may, and know that I can improve upon it another day.

I plan to sit in my chair, snow swirling out my window.  I may have a cup of cocoa, a cookie, and instead of curling up with a good book, I shall get lost in a story of my own making.  I refuse to let the voices in my head cause damage to my mental abilities other than what they have already done.  They are aching for a voice, and I have a story to tell.

So, for my few days of respite from the real world, I shall revel in my children and the excitement of Christmas, love my husband and share his joys, spend time with family and friends.  I shall also hide in a cubby hole of my own making and visit those who are waiting not so patiently for me to give them life on paper.  Those are my holiday plans.

What are your plans this Holiday?

*Thanks to Google for the image*

I'm Starting to Feel It! I'm Talking Presents!

It's amazing what happens when I sit down and start working on gifts.  I started working on some gifts for friends and neighbors when the spirit of Christmas slammed into my heart.  With the white lights on my tree casting a warm glow in the front room, and the red and white poinsettias gracing the kitchen counter, the ambiance was just right to feel the true reason for the season.

Every year I try to come up with a gifts for family and friends that gives twofold.  I receive joy in either creating or buying it, knowing that it is something they will love, and seeing family and friends' smiles when they open their gift, something that was selected just for them.

A couple of years ago, I decided to be crafty.  It's something I don't naturally excel at, so I was determined to do something spectacular.  While I don't know if my family and friends felt that it was spectacular, I felt the special feeling one can only experience when doing something for someone else.  I sat, night after night, in front of a sewing machine.  Oh, don't get ahead of yourself and think I actually sewed something, because I didn't.  It was actually my sister in-law's embroidery machine.  Ordinary blankets soon became a personal item, with a name and a picture, chosen specifically for the recipient by one of my dear children.  Monetarily, this was not an expensive gift.  In fact, it was rather cheap.  But the fact remains that there was joy in my home making the gift.  While my daughter helped tie festive bows around the blankets when we were done, I could see the giving fever had touched her too.  After all, isn't that what it is all about?  Giving?

This year I've been bitten again by the giving bug.  I think to myself about those in my life who have been so generous with either time, love, talents, and worldly goods to my family and myself.  I am crafting something in my head as well as physically, and I can't wait to share.  After all, isn't that one of the most important lessons we try to instill in our children?  That Christmas is about giving and not receiving?

*Thanks to Google for the image*

Soundtrack to the Season

I really should get out of my funk....and I think, bit by bit, I am crawling out of that self-destructive hole of pitifullness.  Today, let's talk about my idealistic Christmas, and what role music plays in it.  No pun intended....

Growing up, I listened to Christmas carols played on a number of different record players.  The first that I remember was a huge console that took up half of the living room, or at least it seemed to in my infantile memory.  The sweet strains of Andy Williams' 'It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year' seemed to envelope the entire house.  This continued through the moves to different states, the graduation of high school, and a mission for my church.  Twenty-three years of the same records, Andy Williams, Tammy Wynette, Ray Conniff and his singers, Johnny Mathis, these were the staples I remembered.  My mother would stack the records on the player where a disc would spin and drop into place.  Over and over again, one by one, until the stack would finish and someone had the job to turn it over.

Many activities were done to the sounds of the carols.  They would be the ambient music as dinner was prepared, play a central part of decorating the tree.  From the moment we awoke on Christmas morning, to when we retired that night, the records would make their rounds under the needle and scratchy music flooded the day.

After my return home from Uruguay, the records made their last appearance at our Christmas festivities.  They were well worn and the record player was on it's last spin.  I remember slipping the vinyl platters into the sleeves, and the musty smell that is akin to old books and well loved journals.  They didn't make another appearance again.  Technology was progressing, and we couldn't repair the old player any longer.

As I have my own family now, I have a few of the same albums, but digitally, purchased online and downloaded to my iTunes and synced to my iPod.  I've added a few of my own favorites along with the classics of my childhood, Sarah McLachlan, Bare Naked Ladies, and some favorite piano classics.  I have created the perfect Christmas playlist for my days, and it is the soundtrack to my season.

What is playing right now?  O Holy Night.  It is one of my favorite Christmas songs.  I have several versions, sung from Harry Conick Jr. or Josh Groban....the fact remains, it puts me in the mood for the spirit of the Holidays.

What are you listening to this Holiday season?

*Thanks to Google for the image*

I Totally Blame My Cold...for the Christmas Lights

I am now infused with Christmas cheer....not.  I've been out sick for a few days, and am just starting to feel on the mend. I have made terrific strides though, in capturing that wondrous feeling from my childhood, and find it elusive, but closer than my last post.  I loved the suggestions, commiserations, and honesty from those who commented.  I was surprised to see that there were many who felt as I do.  We should form a support group or something....

So, let's talk Christmas lights....do you love them?  Hate them?  Still have them up in July?  I have very strong opinions on the subject of Christmas lights, just ask my husband.

To me, Christmas lights should be hung by professionals.  I love the straight and structured white lights, where they are placed perfectly, with just the right amount of lights on each eave and stretch of roof line, with no excess trailing down the drain pipe.  Colored lights may work in a pinch, but white is the preferred color of the season.

There is something about haphazard placement that sets my teeth on edge.  You know the ones I'm talking about....where the tiny lights may be stapled to the edge of the roof every twelve feet, and the multi-colored bulbs twinkle relentlessly...but let's not talk about my pet peeve of twinkly lights...that is another post entirely.  It just looks messy.

If you were to drive past my house this Christmas season, you will not find lights.  No, we have forgone the traditional festive display because I can't be satisfied with the light placement.  I may say that we have little or no time in which to scale the roof to attach yards and yards of lights, but I would be lying.  I could also say that we don't have enough strands in which to do a credible job of lighting our home.  Again, false.  The truth is, I like to have my lights perfect, just like everything else when it comes to Christmas.  I would prefer to have my tree, with it's WHITE lights sitting in the window to show my festive spirit, than hanging a dozen strands of multi-colored mini lights around my porch railing.

Someday, when I don't have anything better to spend my money on, I will hire a professional.  Someone who will come, and bring a crew to decorate my house with lights. There will be the exact number of bulbs to line my roof, with nary a stray light to be seen.  It will all be done to my specifications, and my home will glow with Christmas cheer.  Until that time, I'll put a candle in the window. (Which I will explain in a post to come.)

*Thanks to Google for the image*

Where are You, Christmas?

Truth be told, I'm not sure how I feel about the Christmas holiday anymore.  The older I get, the less enchanted it becomes, although I do have the opportunity to view it through the eyes of my children.  My house is never the way I envision it, although some may say I have too high a standard...I may never make it to magazine worthy decor.  I wouldn't say that my standards are high, but it never quite measures up to how I remember Christmas.

Growing up, I had a spectacular Christmas experience.  The lights were strung along the house, the tree emblazoned with the silk bulbs from the early 1970's.  Pink and red if I recall correctly.  The garland that adorned our tree was what we may call tacky today, but in my mind it was grand.  Plastic candies of all colors, peppermint swirls, candy canes, all encrusted with the fake sugar that would bush off to the carpet and cause a fine mess.  It was divine.  Peanut Blossom cookies, hot cocoa, snowmen, Christmas music on the record player all meant the holiday was fast approaching.

The anticipation of the holiday was almost more of a treat than Christmas day.  I recall the festive traditions, the family Christmas party, where I always played Mary in the live Nativity because I was the only girl.  Singing Christmas carols and learning to play them on the piano were staples of my childhood. For a time, my family lived away from extended relatives, yet the same traditions continued.  A program on Christmas eve, my brothers and I performing for my parents, where we learned the lyrics of Silver Bells, and my father read the story of Christ's birth from the book of Luke.

Now, it's a constant battle to regain those precious feelings of the holidays.  I can't explain it, but I feel as if a part of my soul is missing.  I don't know who I am without this part of me.  There are many that don't understand this facet of my makeup, but it is as important to me as the beating of my own heart, but one that has gone missing for a very long time.

Tonight we decorated the tree.  It is lit with white lights, red balls, and a snowflake or two.  Although my children and I worked together, I felt very little joy in their excitement, although I was happy for them, for making a memory.  My smile was forced and my throat tight as I reminisced about doing the same thing, but with a happy heart as a child. Is this what it means to get older?  To loose the spirit of Christmas?  If so, is it too late to run back into my childhood?  I want to feel the wild abandon of my son as he places the glass balls on various limbs, or the thrill that shoots through my daughter when she steps back to survey her work.  I miss it.

Time is short, but it really hasn't changed from when I was a child, so that really can't be an excuse, though it is one I fall back on a little too readily.  Am I pulled in too many directions, that I don't take time to really think on the true meaning?

I am forcing myself through the motions.  I pray that at some point in the next 25 days, my heart will find Christmas, for my children, but if truth be told, for me as well.

What do you do to get into the Christmas Spirit? Help is needed!

I hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas!  We had a terrific day and really enjoyed spending time with family.  Here are a few pictures from the day:

Abbie and Nigel in their Christmas Eve Jammies

Abbie with her American Girl Doll and her first deodorant...Oh no!  She is too young for this isn't she?  I guess she is growing up.

Nigel with his "Robot" he calls Red Clawson

On Friday we finally made it to see the lights downtown at Temple Square.  It was frigid!!!  Only about 17 degrees.  The kids were troopers for a while, but when they started to whine, we knew it was time to head home.  

Abbie and Nigel in front of one of the Nativity displays on Temple Square

I am teaching Relief Society tomorrow, and am so exited.  I made a little hand out to give the sisters.  The stake hasn't been all the good at getting us the lessons from the conference talks.  I didn't want too have a really short amount of time to prepare, so I asked if I could do something on my own.  I really wanted to focus on setting goals for the new year and thought that a lesson on goals would be good for me as well as everyone else too.  I hope it goes like I have imagined it in my mind.

This is the handout I made and had printed up at the photo place.  I am using the SMART goal acronym with a twist.  Like I said, I hope it goes well.  

Thankful Thanksgiving Thursday

I am thankful for so many things and this time of year always brings to mind how blessed I am.

1. I am thankful for my family...both immediate and extended.  I have a husband who loves and supports me, children who are wonderful and loving, parents and siblings that love me unconditionally.  My life would never have turned out this way without their influence on me.
2. The Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Plan of Salvation is something that I am eternally grateful for.  I don't know where I would be in this crazy life without the knowledge and steadfastness of my testimony of Jesus Christ.  I am grateful that I have the opportunity to learn from my mistakes and become a stronger person.
3. I take for granted that I have a home, a job, and food on a daily basis.  I can't miss the opportunity to say how blessed I am to have these necessities in my life.
4. Books.  Need I say more?  To be able to read and immerse myself in a story and stretch my imagination has been a boon to my sanity in times of trial, depressions, and just plain tiredness.
5. To say that I am grateful for technology seems a bit trite, but I must say that without it, I would not have kept in touch with friends across great distances, preserved memories, or have the job I do today without it.  It has also been a bit of a commonality with Daniel, and as I learn more, we have a greater understanding of each other's interests.
   
6. My dear friends are another treasure that I hold dear.  Although we don't spend as much time as I'd like together, they can always kick me in gear when I am down and need a boost.  They have watched out for me from a distance and close by and stepped in when Daniel couldn't help me.  For that I am ever so grateful.

This is just a few of the things that I have pondered today, on this national day of thanks.  The list could continue on, or I could get extremely sappy and start to tear up at the thoughts of all my blessings.  I hope all have had a wonderful day, ate lots of turkey, even with the effects of tryptophan in your system, and gorged on pumpkin pie.  I also hope that you reflected on what you are thankful for, and had a moment of silent communion to Him who provides for us all.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Late night, early morning

We were up pretty late last night.  I think that most people do stay out late on the Fourth of July...fireworks, barbeques, etc.  We spent part of the day at Dan's parent's house.  Every year his dad shoots off his little cannon for the neighborhood.  It starts with a bunch of people marching down the block to The Star Spangled Banner and carrying flags.  The kids love it.  I was beat by the time it started, so it really was a late night.  We drove home, watching some of the city fireworks going off.  Here are some of the pictures I took:

It took both Abbie and Nigel a while to warm up to doing sparklers.  The love the little Pop-It things that you throw down and they make a popping sound.  We had bought a mega pack of them, and sparklers at Sam's Club.  We still have a ton to do.  Thank goodness for the 24th of July!  The food was good and we were out late...that must constitute a good time for the kids!  Naps today!  At least for me! <:-)>

I did spend some time scrapbooking, so here are a couple of layouts that I did.  I did say I would do a couple of Nigel and then when I finished, I went ahead and did another of Abbie.