From Our Zoo To Yours. . .

And from Ali and me – Wishes for a thoughtful, warm and meaningful holiday! {ignore Izzy. she's always that sarcastic!}

A Gift

Last night I saw a man who stands at least 6'4" weep. He wore the uniform of a security guard, but he clothes himself in the garments of a father who's doing the best he can in a difficult time.

He's ex-military. He was unemployed this year until landing a gig with the security firm where I clean. A few weeks ago his wife's appendix burst and she was hospitalized for a full three weeks. She just went home a few days ago but will have to return to the hospital for surgery after Christmas.

They have a 13 year old son.

Things have not always been this tough but, for now, it is what it is. He has no money to buy his son a Christmas present.

He went to the Salvation Army and asked for help – simply so his son will not awaken on Christmas morning to an empty stocking. They asked what his son would like and the boy had only two requests, either a Super Mario Brothers video game or a remote control car. A few days went by and the Salvation Army called. He could come pick up his gift.

When he got home to wrap his single present he discovered it was a toy perfect for a little boy. A boy about the age of five.

Is a completely age inappropriate toy unwrapped on Christmas morning worse than no toy at all? The father was thankful for the Salvation Army's generosity but hesitant to hurt his son even more.

He confessed his confusion while we cleaned.

He determined that if he could not return the toy to the Meijer's where it was purchased and trade it for something else he would place it in the Toys For Tots bin inside the warehouse facility where we worked so that another child would have something under their tree.

And so, when we drove up to the guard shack last night at 9:30 and dropped off a Super Mario Brothers video game in a plastic bag with a quiet wish for a Merry Christmas, we saw a 6'4" man, dressed as a security guard, weep.

And, that's what keeps me going this holiday week.

Christmas Spirit

I took my friend Christmas shopping yesterday. He had his list. I had his funds. We got ourselves to the mall in a timely fashion and hit the sales. Hard. He only asked for two things for himself. Some lunch {it was after 11!} and a cupcake. There was a kiosk of homemade cupcakes run by an older lady who helped him pick a white cupcake with cream filling. You can see by the smile, and the cupcake in his hand, that we had quite a successful outing!

We only had one "incident." We arrived at the mall at 9:50. The stores open at 10:00. My friend has difficulty walking and getting from the car to the doors was a slow, painful process for him. I left him at the mall doors and went to the Customer Service kiosk to get a wheelchair only to be told by the "customer service" ladies that they would not let me take a wheelchair because "we have to open our cash registers and there are other things we have to do first." I politely asked if there was a rental fee for the chair. She heaved a huge sigh and said no. A little less politely I asked if there was no rental fee for the chair why she needed to open her cash register before moving the velvet rope and allowing me to use something that is free.

"Because this is the way I choose to do things and I'm in charge." {bad. answer.}

Even less politely {because you don't mess with my peeps and by now I was angry} I asked her if she had ever heard of the Americans With Disabilities Act and reminded her that the mall was a public facility and that I had a 77 year old man with developmental disabilities standing in the doorway waiting on a FREE wheelchair.

She moved the velvet rope. And then I asked for the name of her supervisor.

All in all, it was a good day. His sense of humor restored my spirit. The ladies at the jewelry store who helped him pick a teddy bear to give to his great-niece reminded me that the kindness in the world still wins over the ugliness.

Being someone who hates shopping, tries to avoid the mall at all cost and struggles with the commercialism of Christmas, I have to admit that I left his house after dropping him off humming carols under my breath.

Best Christmas Memories

:: That tree from sometime in the early 1970's at my grandparents house. It was 10 feet tall and sprayed with dozens of cans of white flock. Remember those weird, white trees?? It was a thing of strange beauty in my eight year old eyes.

:: Tacking my grandfather's old man-ish, black nylon socks to the mantle of Christmas Eve at their house. When we woke in the morning the socks were always sagging with oranges in the toes and candy stretching them beyond recognition as footwear.

:: The kitschy ceramic Christmas tree that my mom put out every year. I wish I had one now.

:: The creme de menthe liqueur recipe that was in a tall clear glass at all my grandmother's fancy dinners. It was off limits to me as a kid but she would give me a secret taste in the kitchen every year. By the time I was getting old enough to have a little bit of my own my parents declared all alcohol unacceptable – even for adults. Momma still snuck me a taste.

:: Chili on Christmas Eve – it always was accompanied by a fancy cheese and cracker tray.

:: Opening one present every Christmas Eve when we were kids. We always picked the biggest one.

:: Learning that making gifts to give was the best way to let people know that you really, really love them.

:: Hearing Scott M. sing A Strange Way to Save the World. It's not Christmas without it.

:: Singing in the Christmas cantata. We were pretty good for a raggedy band of has-been singers!

:: Listening to Ali's family sing karaoke on Christmas night. Sometimes good. Sometimes frighteningly bad. But always, always funny!

This is just a short list of my very favorite memories on Christmas Eve, 2009. Merry Christmas to you!

Finished!

"We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give."

– Sir Winston Churchill

Epiphany

This is the first year that my Christmas tree has made it past the day after Christmas. Usually, I can't wait to get that thing out of there. Perhaps it's fitting that it finally made it to Epiphany. It's the 12th day after Christmas – the day of celebration that the three kings finally made it to the stable where Jesus was born.

The word epiphany means a moment of sudden revelation or insight. 

Maybe our Christmas tree, still glowing in the front window long into the first week of January, is our epiphany to slow down just a little bit and let things move at their own pace – instead of flying headlong into tomorrow before it has even come. 

Perhaps we will celebrate Epiphany tonight by taking down the tree together, packing the handmade ornaments away and baking a Three Kings Cake. (Read a really informative article about it here.)

Rosca De Reyes - Three Kings Cake

for the cake

16 ounces butter
1 lb powdered sugar
6 eggs
4 cups cake flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

for the syrup topping

2 cups brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground aniseed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 dried bean

Preheat oven to 350°F.

In large mixing bowl, cream together butter or margarine and powdered sugar. Add eggs and beat again, until light and fluffy.

Combine dry ingredients, except chopped nuts.

Gradually add dry ingredients and vanilla to creamed mixture.

Sprinkle nuts on bottom of lightly greased 9x5x4-inch loaf pan. Pour batter into pan. Bake at 350°F for 55 minutes, or until pick comes out clean and cake springs back to the touch.

Cool 10 minutes; turn cake onto wire rack to cool.

Insert dry bean or"baby" from the underside of the cake when cool.

During the last minutes cake is cooling, melt brown sugar in heavy saucepan over low heat. Remove from heat and add ground anise and vanilla extract. Pour warm syrup over freshly baked, cooled cake.

I Ask You. . .

I ask you. . . what kind of Christmas present is this???


The morning after Christmas I was cleaning things up in the kitchen and Ali was on the couch playing a computer game she had gotten for Christmas. We were both eating breakfast from the box of Christmas cookies that someone (who shall remain nameless) had given us as a gift. All of the sudden I heard a scream come from the living room. I went rushing in.

"What's the matter honey?!"

By then she was laughing, choking on a cookie and pointing at the box. I looked carefully, expecting to find a bug or something worse.

It was something worse.

Again I ask you. . .what kind of Christmas present is this???

Merry Christmas

Advent is finally over. The waiting, preparing, watching and hoping are done. Christmas has finally arrived.

                             

I wasn't quite ready though.           

I was prepared for perfect love and the promise of new life. I was ready for a fresh start and for hope to be born again inside of all who choose to believe. I was ready for excitement and laughter and the exchange of gifts.

But, I wasn't quite ready for all the details. There are a few gifts I didn't get finished in time. There were things I had to buy and not make because I just ran out of time and energy. When I face these "failures" sometimes I'm kind of hard on myself. But, as I read on one of my favorite blogs this week, maybe it's just time to throw The List (and all the expectations) into the fire. And just let the celebration be what it will be.

The Christmas police have not called. I have not been issued a Christmas warning to pick up my game.

There has been no town crier in the streets calling "Hear ye! Hear ye! Tanya has dropped the ball. She hereby and henceforth fails Christmas!"
                
Let it be what it will be.

Thank you for reading this blog. For commenting. And for being my friends. It's been a tough year. But hope comes in the form of a new life in all who believe. Merry Christmas to you.

May your Christmas, no matter what shape or size, be just right for you.

My Voice

This icky sickness rages on and Christmas just keeps on coming. I've been sick for almost two weeks and every time I think I'm starting to get just a little bit better it knocks me back down.

It seems like I get sick at this time every year. When I used to celebrate Christmas with my immediate biological family I got laryngitis every year. 

Looking back, I think that was a way that my body was compensating for my spirit. Not speaking truth to my family left me without any kind of authentic voice. The last year that I was with them on Christmas morning I remember feeling very, very sad. And very isolated. 

This year I'm not 100% physically. But I'm strong and resilient. I'm also at a place of deep joy and contentment in my life.

And, this year I still have my voice.

Christmas Letter Outtakes

One of my least favorite parts of working in a print shop is typing Christmas letters for customers. It feels like an invasion of privacy. Even worse is going through the mental gymnastics that it takes not to edit or re-write them. Here are a few snippets from this year's crop.

Some are pompous and too wordy.

In June, Harold and I went to Illinois to a tool convention. Harold sells a lot of his pamphlets on many historical subjections.

What the hell is a historical subjection??? And who pays for one???

************************************

Some are funny and you want a bit more info.

We returned home from the Wayne County Fair with 1/2 bushels of plums, pears and tomatoes to can. That was too much for Mom. She had to see the doctor.

What was the diagnosis?

************************************

This is another one that's pompous. And frankly, it's TMI.

Once again I had a surgical procedure. About a year earlier I had injured my left elbow in some way which caused the bursa to become inflamed which, in turn, generated excess joint fluid to compensate for the damage. Much of this joint fluid was diverted to a rather large pouch of skin attached to the exterior of the elbow. Although the pouch was not too painful, it was a nuisance and an aesthetic disaster. 

An aesthetic disaster. . . that, in my humble opinion, you ought to keep to yourself!

************************************

Occasionally, one is well written and thoughtful.

The first snowfall says "it's winter" even though the calendar isn't quite there yet. Icicles, frost on the branches, and sunshine plus cardinals at the bird feeder make for a perfect winter display. Who needs to decorate! Tradition seems to demand it and we succumb. Christmas music is everywhere you want to be. Children are exuberant, and the elderly (that's us) look and listen carefully. We've been granted another year to enjoy and be grateful.

Although these well-written letters are few and far between, laughing at the rest keeps me going!

Happy/Merry Thanks-Christmas!

Happy/Merry Thanks-Christmas everyone! Perhaps this is a new holiday for you? It's only my second year to celebrate this two holiday mashup.

Celebrating the holidays with Ali is taking some getting used to. And, frankly, it requires some kind of map and notepad. Her parents divorced when she was eleven. Her mom married a friend of the family a few years later. That meant that people that had been friends for her whole life were now family members. I know there are lots of people for whom this is normal. It's just hard to keep track of who will be where and how they are all related from a newbie's perspective!

Anyhow, today is the holiday gathering for her stepdad's family. There will be 23 people at the party. And I'm making the turkey, dressing and sweet potato casserole. Thank God it's not at our house. . .

I know you're not supposed to try a new recipe on a day that you're feeding people who don't know that you're an acceptably good cook. But, I'm feeling adventurous – or maybe just suicidal! I'm not sure how it came about that I'm making this food anyway. I think Ali volunteered me. She's eaten turkey and sweet potato casserole that I've made and she liked it. But, the only stuffing she's ever eaten from a pan on my stove came out of a box. . .

These people are picky eaters. All of them. They like plain, unadorned (and from my perspective – boring) food. I'm a daughter of good old Southern cooks and the only dressing I know how to make from scratch is Cornbread Dressing. I'm fairly certain this would be unacceptable. Perhaps even ridiculed.

So here I sit, behind my computer screen on Thanks-Christmas morning, trolling the internet for recipes that don't resemble slimy, wet bread. And aren't out of a box. And don't make me look like an idiot to people who've only met me once. . .at last year's Thanks-Christmas.

I think this is what I'm going with.

Ingredients
2 packets onion soup mix
2 cup water
1 teaspoon poultry seasoning
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup celery, diced
1/2 cup onion, diced
8 cups bread, cubes

Saute celery and onion in butter. Bring soup mix and water to a boil. Simmer 5 minutes. Stir in poultry seasoning, butter, celery and onion. Add this mixture to the bread cubes; toss together. Grease crockpot; add stuffing; set on low for 3-4 hours.

Since I have to transport all this food across town the crock-pot makes sense. Although, I think my cooking fore-mothers would roll over in their graves if they could see me making stuffing in a crock pot. . .they would be even more distressed that there was no cornbread to be found! Anywhere!

Wish me luck!

Full Circle

I don't usually post this kind of stuff, but a friend sent it to me yesterday and it made me think. 

A woman was out Christmas shopping with her two children. After many hours of looking at row after row of toys and everything else imaginable; and after hours of hearing both her children asking for everything they saw on those many shelves, she finally made it to the elevator.

She was feeling what so many of us feel during the holiday season time of the year - overwhelming pressure to go to every party, every housewarming, taste all the holiday food and treats, getting that perfect gift for every single person on our shopping list, making sure we don't forget anyone on our card list, and the pressure of making sure we respond to everyone who sent us a card.

Finally the elevator doors opened, and there was already a crowd in the car. She pushed her way into the car and dragged her two kids in with her and all the bags of stuff. When the doors closed, she couldn't take it anymore and she stated, "Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up and shot."

From the back of the car, everyone heard a quiet, calm voice respond, "Don't worry, we already crucified him."

This made me think about my favorite Christmas ornament. It hangs where no one can see it, unless you know to look. We hang it there as a reminder.

It all starts – and ends – with a tree.

Advent and the Apocalypse

I used to be terrified of the rapture.

It’s a big deal in the Baptist church. There’s a lot of pulpit time devoted to descriptions of dead bodies popping out of caskets and cars who’s drivers are suddenly taken away to heaven leaving chaos and fiery wreckage on the highways. There are stories of children who are suddenly left without parents because they weren’t among those who had gotten saved.

My biggest fear was this passage from Matthew –

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left. Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But know this, that if the master of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”
—Matthew 24:36;40-44

As a preteen, before getting out of bed in the morning I took a very literal approach to the day by praying the following prayer, “Dear God. I’m really do believe and expect that TODAY is the day for the rapture. In Jesus Name I Pray, Amen.” I thought that should cover me. After all, I was pretty sure the verse meant that if I expected it, it wouldn’t happen!

Fast forward to adulthood – I came to understand that I don’t really believe in the rapture anymore. I began to see it as an invention of self-righteous Christianity to terrify people into submission. Those who are born-again will be taken up into the sky out of harm’s way as the world ends, while all the rest will suffer horribly.

All I can think of is, “Nanny, nanny, foo-foo!”

So, what can all this possibly have to do with Christmas?

Every morning during Advent I’ve been meditating. I light a candle that’s in a jar and kneel in my little meditation corner, facing a window that looks out into our street. It’s dark at that hour. When I sit and hold the candle I see several reflections of the flame dancing in the windowpane. I practice centering prayer and work at emptying my heart and mind of all the junk that they collect.

I want to create space for the holy.

I stay that way, thinking, praying and breathing for about 20 minutes each morning. The very first day of Advent, as I came to the close of my time, the following verse drifted into my head. I prayed it out loud that day. And every day since.

“Even so, come Lord Jesus.” – Revelation 22:20

It’s from the heart of Biblical apocalyptical literature. Maybe this is the only way I can make sense of Jesus coming again into the world. At Christmas.

When I most need a sense of wholeness and peace – even so, come Lord Jesus.

When I get overwhelmed, overcommitted and overwrought – even so, come Lord Jesus.

When selfishness wins the day – even so. . .

See that candle dancing over there in that darkened window? Come, Lord Jesus.

You are welcome here.

Maybe Less Is More

This is still bothering me. Five days later. I'm sure you've heard it on the news by now. I heard it and was aghast. I keep thinking about it.

Last Friday morning, a 34-year-old Wal-Mart employee was trampled to death as a mob of shoppers broke down the door in order to save some money. Hundreds of people stepped on another human being's body in order to buy things. Turns out, it was death by suffocation.

What does it mean?

I don't want to be all negative. It's the season to buy things. Give things. I'm not opposed to people trying to save a little money when everything is so tight. But what does this story teach us about joy and generosity? Even more, what does it teach us about economy or humanity? What does it mean when people buy anything and everything just because it's "on sale"?

And, maybe the most difficult question of all – What kind of human being can step on another human being and not even notice? Or worse, notice but not care?

It's all so complicated. The point of this post is that I've been wondering what I can do to make any kind of difference at all in this madness.

I made a list.

• I will buy less.
  
• I will simplify at least one aspect of my own Christmas tradition.
  
• I will make more handmade gifts.
  
• I will pause before I buy anything and ask myself, "Will the recipient really want/use/enjoy this thing or am I buying it because I don't know what else to get?"

All this thinking really came together when I was working on my little button wreaths. Ali was sitting next to me on the couch, doing some work she brought home from the office. I was sorting and stringing buttons and thinking about the story that each little button could tell. Who wore these clothes? Were they happy or sad? Were some of these buttons from special occasion clothes? Or regular old work clothes? Why did someone cut them off and save them?

I thought about all the summer Saturdays she and I had spent at flea markets and junk stores, hunting for "treasures." We had such fun finding the unexpected – buttons, thimbles, books and furniture.

It was then that I realized that it was going to be a sacrifice for me to give away my little button wreaths. I told Ali that I really loved making the wreaths, but I wasn't quite as excited about giving them away. She said, "Honey, next summer I'll buy you some more."

A little handmade button wreath may not seem like much. Especially compared to some new toy or electronic must-have of the month. But it comes from a place of generosity and simplicity. I really do believe that simple can be magical and wonderful and that a few carefully chosen gifts can be much better than a huge stack of packages to open just for the sake of more.

It's Crazy

If you know me, you'll know how crazy this is.

I'm making homemade Christmas cards. I'm LOVING it!

I'm the girl that only puts up a Christmas tree once every three or four years. I'm the girl that hates sappy Christmas music. I'm the girl that starts feeling Christmas-y on December 23rd about 11:00 p.m. and wants it all gone on December 25th by noon.

As I've been making these I've been humming cheesy songs and grinning from ear to ear. There is something wrong with me this year!

Project 365 - Day 58

Shopped until we dropped. . .Christmas!

"Don't be fooled by the calendar. There are only as many days in the year as you make use of." ~Charles Richards