an advent

It's dark at suppertime, now.  We've woken a few mornings to frost in the backyard, and the star on the silo is lit (although we need to replace some of the bulbs).

This is the season of Advent, when we prepare to celebrate the arrival of the Christ child, Jesus - Immanuel:  "God with us."  The term "advent" means a beginning or arrival, and there are many new beginnings in our lives right now.  Not all of them are of our choosing, but this one is:

In all the busyness that seems ironically inherent to this season, 

I wanted to carve out a small spot of peace this year.

So we decided, last night, that while while we eat supper this month, we'll turn off the lights, and burn candles instead, and sit quietly before we fill our plates, listening to an Advent reading or Scripture.

There's nothing inherently wrong with shopping for gifts, or rehearsing a nativity play, or decorating, or baking or sending out cards.  But activities can get in the way, sometimes - block our view, distract our focus, and rob us of peace.  Somehow, turning off the lights slows us down and tunes us in to the wonder of waiting for the Light to shine in the darkness . . . .

May you be blessed this Advent season 

with the quietness of heart that only comes 

from the Prince of Peace.

journey to Bethlehem

Every year we spend the day before Christmas "journeying" to Bethlehem.  I play "Mary," my Farmer plays "Joseph," and the children play our nieces and nephew, travelling in the same caravan en route to our ancestral city of Bethlehem, for the census.

It all started quite simply, about a decade ago when Sugar was a toddler, and we used the figures of our nativity scene to act out the Bible story for her.  As Mary & Joseph made their long trip to Bethlehem, they stopped along the way to eat.  (We "stopped" with them, sharing raisins to ensure Sugar's rapt attention).

Each year it's gotten a little more elaborate, until it has blossomed into an annual theatrical production - at least for mealtimes.

We spread the blanket on the floor and lay out the food in the center.  We sit around the food in a circle, sharing from the common bowls (handmade pottery, or wood, if possible).  Sometimes Joseph (or, more rarely, Mary, who has also been known to fake pregnancy with a pillow) wears a plaid bathrobe to really get into character.  Conveniently, the children all have biblical names and it's only "Mommy" and "Daddy" which are discarded in favor of stage names.

Our "simple peasant" fare has gotten a bit more substantial over the years as the children have gotten larger and hungrier.  From the initial almonds, raisins, and bread, the menu has grown quite a bit.  I offer it here, in case anyone else wants a spark of an idea to ignite their own tradition.


Journey Menus
breakfast:  bread, curds (cottage cheese), dried or preserved fruit, and almonds.

lunch:  fish (tilapia or swai are inexpensive, and are tasty baked simply with a pat of butter), barley loaves, honey yogurt, olives, pistachios and grapes.

supper:  lentil stew, tortillas, plain yogurt, goat cheese [I also made risotto this year, since growing children cannot live on tortillas alone, and not everyone at this house has developed a taste for lentil stew yet.  Let's just call it poetic license, shall we?]


There are many possibilities for substitutions, and our menus vary a bit from year to year.  Dried fruits that could have come from that region of the world include raisins, dates*, and figs.  Fresh fruits include grapes and pomegranates.  Nuts could be almonds, hazelnuts, or pistachios.  Dairy products of all kinds would have been common.  Come up with something else?  I'd love to hear about it!

Christmas Day Feast
Breakfast is supplied in the stockings - granola bars and juice boxes and craisins and such - and lunch is normal fare.  But for our supper we pull out the stops with a Moroccan dish called Lamb Tagine with Dates (adapted from Betty Crocker's New International Cookbook).  We've made this dish with lamb, beef, chicken, and venison, and it's always delicious.  I've followed the directions to the letter, from browning the meat to adding the dates in at the end, and I've thrown it all into a crockpot at the same time, and it's still always a hit.  I think this recipe is one of those rare ones that you just can't mess up.  Here's the all-at-the-same-time version:

Put into a crockpot:

3 lbs meat (lamb, venison, beef, or chicken all work just fine)
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. saffron
2 cups water
1 T honey
1 cup pitted dates*, chopped (don't use your yummy Nuts.com varieties here; deglet noors will do nicely)

Cook on high 4-6 hours, or on low 8-10 hours.  Or whatever.  Crockpots are wonderfully flexible.  This year I put the meat in frozen around 11 a.m. and am hoping it will be done (on high) by 5pm. (I'll let you know if it's not!)

Serve with naan and millet if you're having an energetic year.  If not (like me, this year) then plain rice and a vegetable will do fine.  I have some olives left over from yesterday that I'll put out, and we'll have pomegranates and clementines and dates* (the yummy ones!) for dessert, along with some completely inauthentic Christmas cookies that my industrious children made with my mother one lovely day while I was out.


Merry Christmas, and may God bless us, every one!



* a word on dates:  Your health food store may have medjools (which are a lot tastier than the deglet noor variety usually sold for baking), and other varieties if you're lucky.  Otherwise, Nuts.com is a reliable and cost-effective choice for barhi, jumbo medjool, khadrawy, and halawi varieties.  They also have great customer service and a delightful sense of fun.

spark

Christmas is over.  Except for a few lone homes (like mine), most of the decorations and lights have been packed back into the attic, and winter stretches out ahead of us, dreary and white with cold.

I offer you a trip back a few weeks in time, back to the magic of giving, of a Gift, of people performing just for the joy of it, and for how the joy leaps and spreads like flames on dry grass.

Flash mobs.

So perfectly they portray Christmas:  people living in darkness, not even knowing it, not knowing to long for light, suddenly pierced by joy, by the Light dawning indiscriminately on the undeserving.  Beauty, unexpectedly, in the middle of a street, a store, a weekday's errands.  A Savior, in a stable.

Open your eyes to the wonder of the giving...

... and receive!


La Traviata in a Valencia market ...

... opera in a Melbourne open air market ...

The Hallelujah Chorus in a food court ...

... haunting music on a Basque metro ...

Carol medley in another food court (one of my favorites - watch for the awed little boy!) ...

Song and dance at a German train station, complete with ticker tape!

... and Ode to Joy in Spain, the best of the best of the flash mobs.


All those people, surprised by joy - did you see their faces?  Hungry, incredulous - "for me? here?!"  Absorbing beauty like an withered sponge, plunged again into healing water.  And the joy of giving joy must be as nourishing as the receiving - flash mobs are a glorious epidemic.  Youtube.com offers hundreds, from a South African town square to a railway station in Helsinki, from a Thai airport to the tourist streets of Charleston, from Hong Kong to Copenhagen, Vienna to Glasglow ...

And the beauty of it is, we're all made with a gift to give.  We all can give joy like that.  Each of us is created with some spark of life that the world needs.

So shine!  Give what you've got - maybe not music, or not opera, or not dance, but you can start with a smile or a hug.  And then listen - to God, to those who know you best - and find the spark you were born with ...

... and go light a fire.


(Got your own favorite flash mob?  Drop the link in the comment box - I'd love to see it!)

boxing up Christmas

Two days ago was New Year's Day; I boxed up Christmas.

We brought down the egg box, left over from moving, six years ago.  Both manger scenes were put away, figure by figure laid back into styrofoam and blown-plastic pockets.  Snow globes nestled into boxes, cushioned with pine garland.  Ornaments were unhung, and packed away between pages of paper toweling.  Christmas books, a collection added to each year, arranged by size and snugged into a corner of the Christmas box.  An ornate glass bottle and brass box - wisemen's gifts - went in the bottom, and the miniature Christmas tree - our first, so many years ago, so far from home - reclined on top.  The stable scene from my childhood, practically unmarred across the decades, fit in across the snow globes.

Sugar dismantled the brass Swedish angel chimes, piece by piece into vinyl sleeves; it was tucked in, too.  The plastic Fontanini, the magnet manger, the foam sticker nativity from someone's Sunday school - all packed away in the Christmas box.

It was heavy when I carried it upstairs, all that Christmas in an egg box, lowered with a careful thud onto the spare room closet floor.

I left out the Christmas cards, though; taped around our livingroom doorframe, we'll have company all winter.  The kitchen beam kept its pine adornment, too, with the big red bow and the red folded-paper garland from some far-away land.

I couldn't pack away the Moravian star made of gold screen, either, so it swings in the window above the kitchen sink, still catching the light.  The pine garland swags and strings of wooden cranberries will stay up on the livingroom windows, for awhile anyway.  January needs color.  In the window by the corn stove, the snowman and wool penguin still huddle together.

And the candles - jar candles and flameless candles and pillar candles and window tapers and tea-lights - they've sort of spread out and taken over.  I think we'll need their light.  January can be dark.

I boxed up Christmas, two days ago, but the remnants remind us that it was, and will come again.

grinch-y thoughts

It is New Year's Eve .... and I am remembering Christmas Eve:  snow falling outside; the presents wrapped, the halls decked, the children reviewing their lines for a program at church that night.

And I -

- I was thinking grinch-y thoughts.

This is exciting:  snow! and Christmas Eve programs! presents! and family reunions! feasting! cookies to & from neighbors! bows! ribbons! secrets & surprises!

The trouble is, I don't want exciting.  I mean, I like it, at first.  I feel .... well, excited.  And then I feel tired.  Let-down.  Longing for a quiet place to think.

[disclaimer:  not everyone is like me.  I know that.  It's okay if you LOVE LOVE LOVE excitement and just can't get enough of the Christmas adrenalin.  I just speak for some of the rest of us:  not everyone is like that, either.]

~ : ~ : ~

Midway through my day, I forgot about the Christmas Eve program that my children would be participating in.  I savored the thought of an evening together, candles and children and movie and popcorn and hopefully someone begging to open just one present, pleeeease?? so that my Farmer and I could say yes.  My very spirit sighed at the respite in sight:  a quiet space, for us to rest in each other.

And then I remembered - oh yes, the program.  The program, for which we would need to eat supper over an hour early so we could get to practice, and keep Lil' Snip up [again!] past his bedtime, and have no time together to savor the last hours before we celebrate Jesus' birth.

Grrrrrrrinch-y thoughts, mine were, dripping with sarcastic accommodation .....

~ : ~ : ~

It's true, though, no one twisted my arm to make me sign Sugar and Spice up for the Christmas play.  And so we went, rushing supper to drive through swirling snowflakes, to arrive in the church parking lot ... before even the director had gotten there.


Reverent music filled the sanctuary, dimly lit with [flameless] candles.  Ahhh ..... !


Peace reigned .... briefly, until more children trickled in, fairly warbling with excitement, and were garbed in appropriate costumes.  There was an excited run-through, excited not-so-quiet whispers in the front pews, and excited shushings.  Family and friends arrived to watch, murmuring excitedly about the weather.  The program was executed just as Christmas Eve children's plays always are:  with enough precious bumbling - and a real baby! - to satisfy all the parents and grandparents in attendance.

Afterward we chatted with a few friends, and then brushed the still-novel snow off our cars to head home.

Tucked excited children into bed by the light of the almost-full moon.  Wrapped that last present and set it under the tree with the others.

And then?  Did we two snuggle on the sofa and contemplate the incarnation, enjoying at last the quiet?  Make room for reverence there in our home?

The truth is, I don't remember.

All I remember from that Christmas Eve night is the few music-and-candle-rich moments in the sanctuary, the magic of children on a spotlit stage, and the wonder of the snow ...

... and that was enough, even for a grinch like me.

Merry (belated) Christmas, and a very happy new year to you all!

goodwill toward men

Today, I went shopping with my children - all four of them, even two- and a half-year-old Lil' Snip, whose strong opinions are not always welcome on outings.

We went to the discount grocery store, and the health food store, and the post office, and the little country store (for specialty cocoa, therefore "the cocoa store" according to the aforementioned toddler), and the library (& its used bookstore), and the big grocery store, and the burger joint.

[I do not, for obvious reasons, attempt this kind of excursion with any regularity!!]

And you know what I discovered, shepherding all four children through seven destinations in the thick of the holiday season?

I live in a friendly town.

People smiled at us.  Held the door.  Wished us a Merry Christmas.  Laughed across the checkout lines.  Offered my children lollipops.  Complimented my handmade scarf.  Let us go first at intersections.  Made jokes with my children.  Struck up conversations about whatever was right in front of us, just out of sheer goodwill.

We were not perfectly behaved.  Spice and Nice were a bit spicy (& not-nicey) at times.  Lil' Snip was singing that famous toddler song that sounds suspiciously like whining, a few times when lunchtime loomed a little too near.

Why was an outing that could have been a challenge, a blessing instead?

Maybe it was Christmas cheer.  

Maybe it was happenstance.  

Maybe it was purely a gift from God.  

I'm tempted to think that it was because I was in a good mood, and did a better job than usual at using my pleasant voice, no matter what.  But I think I'll let the analysis go, for once, and just accept the gift.

I live in a friendly town, where folks, given half a chance, are chatty and helpful - and so, I'll bet, do you.

: : :

Merry Christmas!

O Christmas Tree

Tonight my Farmer put the Christmas tree together (yes, we're one of those) and the excitement in the room was exhilarating (if you like that kind of thing).  I stayed out of the way, catching up on my blog-reading (in which I discovered that two good friends, in two very different parts of the world, just bought/moved into their dream homes.  More later, maybe, on my conflicted internal response.).

Here is how I shared about this precious family bonding time, on facebook:

"It's awful but I don't even like the way they decorate the tree - I know it makes me Terrible Mother of the Year, but I would really love to have a color-coordinated tree, without all the trinket-y ornaments ... true confession."

"So, after they all go to bed, I get to put up the rest of the decorations, where I want them, without excited children dogging my every step, offering helpful choruses of suggestions."

"It's trinkets all the way here (and multi-colored lights- ugh).  And of course the irony is that when they're all grown and gone, and I can do the tree how I want it, I won't want it anymore, and I'll miss their excited gibbering."

Here is what I didn't share on facebook, that happened just a bit later:

Lil' Snip came into the livingroom and, unfazed by my laptop shield, exhorted me to "come see the lights, Mommy!  Come in to this room!!"  (Lil' Snip almost never speaks without exclamation points).

So I came with him, into this room, to behold the ugly multi-colored lights with my son.

The room lights were off, the better to admire their awkward handiwork.  The bottom half of the tree was highly ornamented.  There were dark, unlighted regions where the string of lights had been a little too eager to get to wherever it was going.  And under the tree, as close to the glory as they could get, lay my children.

They invited me to join them.  On the floor.  Under the tree.

So, I did.  I looked up through the branches at the lights, listened to Lil' Snip's nonstop excited commentary about the "sparkly-feeling" tree needles, watched his twinkling eyes reflect red, blue & yellow, and when he drummed his feet on the floor in sheer exhilaration, I joined him and drummed mine.  He looked at me, surprised, and smiled.  "Slowly, Mommy," he told me, slowing his own rhythm down.  Spice yelled "Mommy's having fun!!"

And I was.

They sang Christmas carols - O Come, O Come Emmanuel and Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming and Go, Tell it On The Mountain  - around that ugly, beloved tree.  Lil' Snip gave everyone goodnight hugs and kisses and was trundled off to bed, pleading "can we leave it up?"

The tree is up.  And thanks to the innocent delight of my children, so are my spirits.

I might even let them help decorate the rest of the house, tomorrow.

sweater teddies

I went a little crazy the past few days creating these little snugglers:

So I opened a shop with Etsy to find them homes in time for Christmas.

: : :

It all started about a year ago . . .

. . . with a favorite wool sweater that shrank in the dryer, 

and a daughter whose friend got her a teddy bear kit for her birthday.

Lightbulbs went on in my head,

and Sweater Teddies were born.

Here they are, up close and personal:

Snowflake Bear

Bow-Tie Bear

Soft Blue Bear

Red Vest Teddy

French Knot Teddy

Maybe you or someone you know would like a huggable Sweater Teddy?

fuel up

Ever feel kind of empty this time of year?

I don't mean your stomach - if your house is like most, there are plenty of cookies around to take care of that.

I mean your soul.

It's Christmas:   "Joy to the world, peace on earth, goodwill toward men" and all that.  But if reading that leaves you feeling more hungry than happy, if it brings a bitter retort to your lips about
               family feuds
                        and low checkbook balances
                                 and ungrateful children
                                           and harried servicepeople
                                                    and other impediments to peace, joy, and love ....

.....then lay down your credit card and your grievances and hear this:


"Come,  all you who are thirsty, come to the waters;
                and you who have no money,
                                              come, buy and eat!
                       Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.


"Why spend money on what is not bread,
                             and your labor on what does not satisfy?


"Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
                             and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
                                 Give ear and come to me;
                                      hear me, that your soul may live. ..."

Isaiah 55:1-3, 6

"whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst."  

John 4:14

"Come to me, 

all you who are weary and burdened, 

and I will give you rest.  

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, 

for I am gentle and humble in heart, 

and you will find rest for your souls.  

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  

Matthew 11:28-30

winter wonder

The fire has gone out.  My fingers are cold.

But you know what?  I am a grateful woman.

There are bags of pellets for the pellet stove out in the garage.  The sun is streaming through my (supposedly) energy-efficient window in my (relatively) warm house.  My pantry is stocked with nutritious food, and if it weren't, it would be a matter of minutes for me to go buy what I need at my choice of nearby variety-laden supermarkets - and with cash, I might add, that my able-bodied husband earns honestly at his fairly-compensated and steady long-term job.

My children are warmly clothed.

My to-do list centers on maintenance rather than on survival.

I'm more likely to need to vacuum my carpets than patch a leaky roof.


We ration Christmas cookies to curtail greed ....
  .... some are rationing the last of the rice, to keep starvation at bay.


A World Vision Catalog came to our door a week ago, and as we pored over the photos of foreign children holding ducks and goats, suddenly the wish lists we'd laboriously thought up for the children in our lives seemed awfully petty.

                             When we could give food....





What are you grateful for today?

                            How could you show it?