Loving Father, 

help us to remember the birth of Jesus, that we my share in the song of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and the worship of the wise men.

Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world.

Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting.

Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings, and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.

May the Christmas morning make us happy to be Thy children, and the Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus' sake.

Amen.

Robert Louis Stevenson(1850-1894)

O Holy Night

May we not lose sight.

A Mom's Letter To Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.



Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.

I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy. If you're hauling big ticket items this year.

I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your sister," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back.

Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.


Yours Always, MOM

Finding JOY!

It's been quite the journey the last weeks/months. A journey of sadness and pain, upheaval and emotion. A journey we wouldn't have asked for or chosen, but one that was allowed upon us, only to the amount we could handle.
The sadness itself has been more real than I've ever experienced. Not really because any of these situations hit directly to home, but mainly because my husband wallows through the trenches of the pain and sadness daily. He tries not to 'bring it home' with him, but sometimes he has no choice.(this is a later post).
Oh, it may be more than some could handle, and definitely not even close to what you may have gone through, but for us, it was enough. I clearly remember talking to God one evening, and asking if he could just say "ENOUGH".

My lack of posts was a reaction to this "stuff", it's hard to write honestly when you feel sad. Why make others sad? Which is mainly why I would post pics or stories of the babe, because she brings me daily joy. (As they all do.)
God remains faithful to show me the humour around me.

Case in point: (please bear with me, I hope it reads as funny as it was. I will try my best to explain)

Yesterday, when I arrived at work, a co-worker informed me I was to be on my best behaviour. No singing, no dancing around the store, no fun. There was to be a "head honcho" from head office coming to inspect the store/staff. It was meant as a joke, but we all were well behaved. The man came and stayed for a large chunk of the day.

Now, let me explain that I was the cashier. The regular girl had asked for the day off ,and since I will help out whenever I can, I said I would go on cash. This time of year, we aren't very busy, so they day can become quite boring if you are on cash. I bide my time with some paperwork I bring up, but since you are mainly alone, one can tend to daydream.
Because the 'man' was gone, I felt free to be myself again. At which point, I became dangerous.

I had finished with a customer, thanking him and watching him leave, when I believed I was all alone, and the store was empty of customers.
I began perusing my papers, feeling the beat to the radio, tapping my foot, swaying my body, mouthing the lyrics.

I guess I liked the song, because at one point I bellowed (yes! Bellowed)
"WHAT"YA GONNA DOOOOOOOOO!!" using full vibrado, while tipping my body backwards, playing my imaginary guitar, strumming like rock star!

In a split second, I looked around, to find an old man (whom I did not know was standing there) STARING at me with a reply of
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT??" (exactly what he said!)

I did not know how to respond.

I simply started laughing, and did not stop for atleast 5 minutes. Deep-down-belly-jigglin-eyes-full-of-tears-please-help-me-catch-my-breath laughing.

God is so good.

It's Wednesday........