After glow

There is a strange calmness that falls over the house where children live on Christmas night. It is the calm of full bellies, of fulfilled expectations, of full hearts. How long until my little ones aren't so easily filled? It flies before me even now.

This year was our first technology gift. CE got a nano and we spent some time downloading songs and charging the thing. (It was a group gift, refurbished, purple and wonderful on the idea and general reconnaissance of aunt Tiff T.) From here on out gift giving gets more daunting, I know. But we still have some time for the rest of them.

M was tickled pink by everything she received, including the boxes.

Bam wanted a firefighter rubber ducky. He was enchanted by some Lightning McQueen pjs and some pixar animation themed underwear.

Z and CW made endless lists of needed Lego creations (some of which, to the dismay of Ellie Grandma who got one of the lists, not actually available in this country). Their expectations, if not exceeded, were at least appeased by the profusion of small plastic blocks under the tree for them.

Maybe some day things will be calm enough for me to take pictures in the process of unveiling the Christmas. Problem is, when things are calm enough, they will be boring and I won't care. So, I paint myself this word picture.

Finding Jesus

Several years ago, our ward had an unusual Christmas party. There was no Santa appearance; no one was dressed in red or green; there were no tables laden with ham and turkey. There were no tables at all. Instead, we came with blankets, wearing bathrobes over our clothes. We arrived at the door and were met with the best approximation manageable of a meridian time Jewish town square. There was a well in the center where we got water for our meal. We went from stall to stall to get meats and cheeses, bread and simple sweets and then we sat with our families on our blankets and ate. At a certain point in the evening, a small group of people more successfully dressed than the rest of us began walking from one end of the room toward the stage area. The woman looked pregnant and tired. And then a little bit later, a small family appeared in a cave like area. This was our nativity. I had a new baby at the time, my hormones and feelings were tender. The idea of having a baby in a cave in this very simple time was daunting. It was a sweet and tender meeting as we contemplated being there, perhaps a shepherd, perhaps an innkeeper, just being at the feet of the newborn King. My dear friend had a 2 yr old at the time and he was wandering a bit as some of the families made their way to "greet" the baby Jesus. My friend called to him, B~, we're going to see the baby Jesus, come here. And he came running: "I'm coming baby Jesus, I'm coming!"

That tender, enthusiastic call from a little boy has stuck with me. Am I coming to greet the Savior? What am I doing to make my way toward Him?

Perhaps I feel the need to make my way more forcefully toward my Savior at Christmas time because everyone is singing O Come all Ye Faithful. I know that, at Christmas time, I feel the need to clear a path in the commercial calls for every cool new toy so that my children can know where to look to find Him. Maybe that's why I have four nativity scenes in my house. Maybe that's why my favorite Christmas saying remains up year round: Wise Men Still Seek Him. I want to be wise. I want to keep firm in my mind the two most powerful words in the scriptures: Look and Remember. I want to see. I want to remember. I want to join my feeble grumpy voice with little two year old B~: "I'm coming baby Jesus, I'm coming!"

Christmas in the Desert

The palm trees are blowing in the chilly wind. I argue with my boys that they might want more than a hoodie for recess. The leaves on deciduous trees are finally beginning to change. The rose bushes are dormant; but there are new petunias planted in the community flower beds. Welcome to Christmas in the desert.

Christmas songs are rather homogenous. Almost all of the non-religious ones involve snow, cold and other winter scenes like fires and sleigh bells. What a funny thing for those around the world for whom Christmas comes midsummer. While it is technically winter here now, it rarely snows at all let alone before Christmas (although there was that freak storm last Christmas . . .) Christmas and snow don't go together for my children. They have never had a white Christmas. Christmas for us is an atmosphere entirely of our own making. It is found in how we decorate (negotiating where to put the breakable items so that they aren't terminally tempting to M, etc) and what songs fill our minds and cars. Every Christmas my kids seem to pick a favorite Christmas CD. For several years it was a CD found in the bargain bin called Kids Carols (on which no actual children sang, so I was always puzzled by the title). This year, the favorite CD is Straight No Chaser's Christmas CD--largely because of their silly 12 Days of Christmas.

What is your favorite Christmas CD this year? How do you get Christmasy? Is it because of or in spite of the weather?