Christmas when I was a little girl meant bright sunny days and a trip to the movies.  We enjoyed a dutch Christmas celebration with lots of dutch relatives on Christmas Eve.  We would go to church services in the morning, come back for some breakfast  with my grandma and grandpa and then open presents around the tree with my family.  Aftwards, we would gorge on Christmas supper then go to the cineplex for a good, fun family movie.

We had a fireplace and never lit it.  The ocean was always a short drive away.  And... it never snowed on Christmas.

My children are growing up with swirling snowflakes and snowpants on Christmas.  We go to church services Christmas eve.  After a brief sleep in time on Christmas morning, we travel to the grandparents ranch and open presents.  After Christmas supper, we play a game together or watch a video.  We love to curl up next to the stove (propane heat with a window to see the fire) at their grandma and grandpa's. 

We don't have a fireplace at our house but if we did we would use it.  The ranch is always a short drive away.  And... we would be amazed if it didn't snow on Christmas.

I look back at my childhood Christmas with a smile on my face.  And as I think about the Christmasses to come with my children, I literally beam with excitement.  Whether it is sand or snow, ranch or beach, Christmas is my favorite time of year.

I thank God for the gift of Jesus and the gift of family.

We will travel two states away to a sandier place this Christmas.  But, no matter where we are the true spirit of Christmas love with be with us.

The Turning

Our old leather scrapbook, scuffed with wear and use, sat open in my lap.  The pictures looked up at me like tear drop puddles of heartfelt memories.   Had it really been that long ago that my twin baby girls had been born?

I looked fondly at the pictures of their birth and their time in the NICU.  They were no bigger than their father’s hand as we gently placed them in their car seats.  Two little peanuts, safe and secure for their first ride home.  I remembered the next picture, very well.  I stood holding them both in my arms before we carried them inside our home.  They were so light and so very delicate. 

But, then, as I looked at the pictures, it seemed as if the pages in the scrapbook began turning on their own.  Startled, I watched as the girls grew and changed.  Their first step, first cake, first friends, first bike… first day of school.

It came too fast.  All of it.  I remember the trepidation as we walked through the main school doors.  One on either side of me, they held my hand so tightly; I almost had to tell them to let go.  But, one look at the fear in their eyes, my mouth closed while my stomach began to do somersaults.

Do I have to say goodbye?  I was just starting to get to know you.

Two little girls then walked hand in hand into the school room and sat down in their seats.  Looking at their mother behind the camera, their eyes seemed to say “Mommy can we come home with you?”

Never will I forget that day, that look.  Could it have been any different?

The pages again blow rapidly like an unforeseen hand is pushing time forward.  Suddenly, it stops.

The page lies open on another landmark in my little girl’s lives.  My eyes fill with tears as I look at the picture of my girls, dressed in black, at the gravesite of their grandfather.  If only we spent more time with him.  My father was a wealth of knowledge about everything, about nothing.

The girls were already in 5^th grade.  So busy with school and activities, we never made time, we never had time.

Again, the pages turned, this time they turned so slowly.  It was as if the scrapbook knew I needed to prepare myself for the next pictures, memories.

8^th grade graduation passed by, one of my girls had braces, first boy/girl dance, the big chili cook-off; braces came off, our week in Hawaii, friends, birthdays...  As each event marched by, I had the sense that I was losing the battle between my girls and the world.  Did I even know my little girls at that age?  I tried and tried to break through, but it seemed as if life always got in the way of making time to have a good relationship with my daughters.

And then, the blank page appeared.  Today, we will fill this page with pictures.  Graduation balloons are in abundance in our living room.  Upstairs, you can hear the hair dryers duel as my daughters prepare for their ceremony. 

And here, I sit.  In my new purple dress, with my tear stained face, I stare down at the blank pages that will only be a memory by tomorrow.

What have I done?  My sweet babies are graduating from high school today.  I am left with a distinct sadness that underscores my proud thoughts towards my daughters.  What if I could have changed something?  What if I could turn back time?  What if I could give my life more fully to my daughters and give my daughters more fully to the Lord?

The scrapbook began to wildly turn pages, back in time… It surprised me with quick movements and I held my hands up as if in surrender.  Yes, surrender.  I surrender, Lord; I surrender my girls to you.  I surrender my plans and hopes and dreams.  Help us to replace them with your future, your vision for our lives.

The wind from the turning of the pages died down and the scrapbook stopped moving.  Then, I saw the picture.  It was the turning.

I was just getting to know you.  I ran my fingertips down the edge of the photo.  First day of school, I remember the fight within me.  The girls with their longing looks, this is where the difference can be made.  The Lord created me to be your mother, your teacher.

Violently, I sat up in bed, sweat soaked, heart pounding.  I looked around the room.  The dim red light of the clock stated that it was 3 a.m.  What an awful dream.

And then, I saw it.  The square present, lying wrapped on our dresser.  I turned the lamp on low, so as not to disturb my sleeping husband.  The little note on the package simply said, “For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  Jeremiah 29:11.  NIV

I sat down on the rocking chair that was placed beside the bed and ran my hand absentmindedly over the curve of my stomach.  Then, while softly humming an old hymn, I opened the gift.  I saw the clean, new brown leather shining out from beneath the pink baby wrapping paper.  It was the scrapbook from my dreams. 

The peace of the Lord filled my heart as I placed the scrapbook back on the dresser and turned off the light to slip into bed next to my warm husband.   In the end, living our life to honor the Lord is all that matters. 

And with that thought, I lay silently in the dark smiling. I placed my hand on my belly and felt my twin girls wriggle inside.  “I can’t wait to start our life together”. 

It’s 3 a.m. and I am writing this quietly in our office while listening to my husband softly snoring in bed.  I spent the last three hours studying the word of the Lord… okay, I was watching mindless T.V.  I mean if we are going to be honest with each other – let’s just say this is as real as it gets.  Some nights I am a shining example of biblical motherhood and others… well, you caught me on one of them.

Last week, my family and I sat down to watch the T.V. movie called, “Volcano”, about a volcano erupting in Los Angeles.  Now, I actually laugh my way through that movie (being from southern CA) but when my daughter did not surface from her ocean of pillows for fifteen minutes… we decided to turn off the movie.  Concerns over volcanic activity in Montana were all we heard about for days.

So, being the ever clever, brilliant, full of great ideas, SUPER (catch my sarcasm?) homeschool mom, I decided that we were going to learn about volcanoes.  I got books from the library and found a recipe for volcano eruptions online.  The recipe actually works and “homemade Lava” or “Llama”, as my kids mistakenly called it, bubbled out of our clay covered glass bottle.   Go ahead and picture the “red hot llama sliding down the side of the volcano”, I know I did.

But, while prepping our “quaint” project, I learned something about myself.  Making a volcano with your kids is pretty cool and I am glad I did it.  But, spouting off like a volcano about how great it is that you are making a volcano with your kids is like spewing lava bombs everywhere you go.  Other great moms, who may be having an “at least my kids are fed and sort of clean” week, can get burned.  And I am VERY guilty of exploiting (or exploding) my success… at the hardware store, the grocery store, the summer program, um, right now??

While I may have great ideas occasionally… seriously, how often do those great ideas pan out?  Did I tell you about our… Sea Monkeys – dead.  Our weather station – it’s still in the box.  Gardening - I grow weeds.  Our ABC Scrapbook – we got to letter F.  All those books I bought at the homeschool convention… where are those, anyway – honey?

At the end of the week, it is not about how much time I devoted to scrapbooking meticulous pages of memories or whether I taught the kids the art of hieroglyphic origami… it is really about just spending time right now with my children.  

They do not always need the volcano projects in life.  Most of the time, my own kids just want me to be there with them – whether they hit a home run or get their fingers smashed by the ball while batting (the latter of which happened two nights ago).  Whether your volcano works or explodes all over your fine china… no one else, but the Lord, needs to know that you are loving your child in the way he or she needs.

And on that note... just how do you do hieroglyphic origami anyhow?

A quick thought for today...

I liked the Homeschool minute this morning because it echoes what a homeschool friend and I were talking about this week.  No matter what the pitfalls and struggles that we face with our family, the most important thing that we are doing is being obedient to what the Lord has called us to do.  Some days that is all I have to go on because let's face it homeschooling is not the wide and open road - it is definitely the narrow path.

Yesterday, was a perfect day though... and not because my kids were XYZ and all of our strategies finally worked.  But, it was perfect because I was relaxed and worked with them where they were at and how they would have fun.  I have never had a more enjoyable day.  I relaxed and then they relaxed.  We still had our moments... but let me tell you, they were few and far between!!!

Ever tried letting your kids teach their stuffed animals how to read?  Hilarious stuff!  And it was the best reading session of the new year!

So relax, mom, relax and tell me again relax. :) 

Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding... He will make your paths straight.

Yup, I am from So Cal originally... grew up in a beach town.  Who would of thought I would be helping out my in-laws with their ranch!

We don't always get a chance to go out and help.  But, today was an off day for schooling (we just got back from a trip and every one was pooped!) and we all jumped in the car and headed out to the ranch.

So, here I am in my bright green muck boots with my white flower decorative jeans rolled half way up my calves, a sturdy set of working gloves and a cattle prodder (just a rubber poker prodder) egging some heifers to move on down the chute.  10 years ago if you said I would be working the cows with my in-laws I would of laughed!

But, in a nutshell, I love it.  I feels like the first real thing I have been a part of in a long while.  Working with the cows and having my children be a part of the ranching lifestyle has been awesome.  I am so grateful that I moved to beautiful Montana.  We moved from Phoenix and all I could think of was how my children were going to grow up at the mall (you know with the great air conditioned play area when it was 120 degrees outside). 

Now, they are growing up Country and learning about the beautiful world that God created - animals and land.  What more could I ask for!

Last year, my Christmas tree attacked me on three separate occasions.  You see the base was broken on my fake tree and instead of buying a new one my husband and I decided to use a couple of blocks of wood to stabilize the tree.  Big mistake.

Every time I went to turn on the Christmas tree lights, the tree would sway back and forth just a little bit but it stayed put.  So, feeling triumphant and knowing my husband was now the king of the world in fixing small problems, I got cocky.  I got up one morning and ran to the tree to surprise the kids with a lit Christmas tree as they woke up.

Next thing I know, I am flat on my back with my favorite ornaments dangling in my face.  Acupuncture was not on my Christmas list that year, but with all of those plastic needles I could not escape the feeling of being trapped and poked by an ancient Chinese doctor.  I was TRAPPED by Christmas!  As I wiggled free of my jolly entrapment, a feeling of despair washed over me.

What was the point of putting up all these decorations if I was just going to be ambushed by my ornaments?  Not only did this happen one time but THREE SEPARATE OCCASIONS!  At the end of the season, I took all of the ornaments off the tree and stored them carefully.  I tearfully said goodbye to some of my favorite ornaments that had broken in the tree’s attempt to mug me. 

And then I threw the tree out the back door and told my husband he had better dispose of it quickly or I would make a scene in our neighborhood of kicking it and telling it not so kindly to leave me alone.   His legs ate up the space between us as he gallantly took the tree by the neck for it’s last goodbye in the trash can.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year and decorating the tree has been my job alone since I was a teenager.  So, last year as I think back to my favorite Christmas memories, the tree was not in them for the first time in many years.  But, different memories are now in place that will be favored for years to come.

At my small church, with only 20-30 members, my children decided that they needed to participate in decorating the church.  They took their Little People manger set and placed it under the Christmas tree in the front of the sanctuary.  My children visited their little manger scene every Sunday and rearranged it so that it would be just right.   My 2 year old added a fire truck in case Jesus needed a ride he told me.

My (now) 3 year old often tells me… I don’t want you to die.

He wants me to tell him back… well, I don’t want you to die.

But, if we die? I say, where will we go if we believe in Jesus?

He says… Heaven!

And who will be there to hug you and love you?

He says… Jesus!!  Mommy, will you go with me?

So, my question is to you… the question of my three year old… Will you come with me?

Christmas trees come and go… but the Word of the Lord lasts forever.