Well, it’s been too long since I posted. As my last post informed, my near death ailment nearly took me out. I mean, I certainly don’t mean to exaggerate, but I’m pretty sure death was nigh my door. At the one week mark I had my voice back. At the two week mark, I sounded like a cross between Marge Simpson and Melissa Etheridge. During the lengthy time of ailment and recuperation, there were various and sundry happenings that I made mental notes to post about. But for a very long time, the hard drive that is my brain has been on overload and I cannot promise it won’t spit out random bits of information that may or may not make since. Perhaps I should stick to a list.

A list of what I learned this Christmas:

I learned this Christmas that my family is loud. My family is loud and crazy. WAIT! I already knew this. I was reminded. Christmas reminded me. My family is loud. LOUD! For the first time since ever we played White Elephant or Chinese Christmas or whatever you wish to call it. It went something like this: CHAOS. My people cannot concentrate long enough to play a game? Why am I surprised? There are a lot of us. And while not everyone was there, almost everyone was and it was LOUD and CRAZY and did I mention LOUD? But we finished the game. All in tact. That’s a big deal seeing as how Jamie’s run down of the rules went something like this, “so I just slap him and take the present?” Um, NO! That would be a NO, Jamie, NO slapping in White Elephant. I don’t know what game she was playing but I don’t think I want in. In the end, I got chocolate. And I gave my chocolate to my nephew JD which is love. PURE LOVE.

I learned that parents and in my case, grandparents, should never underestimate assembly of gifts time. Or the lack of Elves to help. The Barbie Town House has lots and lots of parts. This we knew. We were not, however, prepared for the assembly of the Little Tikes Firetruck we bought Gavin. Pictures are available on facebook. Of the final products, that is. Not the assembly. I’m just too tired thinking of how we stayed up ’til 1:30 on the eve of Christmas Eve to post more pictures here. Note to Joe and Trey: You should probably never, ever let me put the last part on a toy requiring detailed assembly. Apparently steering wheels don’t  just pop in easy, peasy. This was my mindset about the whole firetruck in the first place. Me: Oh, it’ll be a piece of cake. Probably popping on the wheels. The truth is, I don’t know what I’m talking about.

I learned that if we will truly let go of our preconceived notions of how everything should turn out or how much we should get, and draw near to Emmanuel, the One we celebrate, we will find peace. The Word became flesh and dwelt among men. On that Holy night so long ago, something happened. But not everyone would see. Not everyone would find. Like us, many people would miss what was happening. The inn keeper. The many travelers. I wonder how many people passed Mary and Joseph that night. Oh to be like the Shepherd boys. To run after, to seek, to truly grasp the joy of His birth.

I learned that if we aren’t careful, we’ll let anything creep in and steal our joy. Like a missing chandelier and other unknown piece from the Barbie Town House. Then we’ll look frantically through untold garbage bags filled with boxes and paper and trash for said pieces. We’ll become so frustrated that TWO pieces of the lovely house are missing and we just can’t stand for it. We’ll launch a search throughout the house and contemplate calling Mattel for replacement parts. And then we’ll take one more look in our little girl’s bedroom and find the missing pieces in Rapunzel’s hair. TANGLED in Rapunzel’s hair. And we’ll wonder how on earth we missed that. Of course, that could all be hypothetical. Or not. There’s a lesson here, people. Besides the one about keeping Rapunzel’s hair away from the chandelier.

I learned that it’s not so much my embracing this whole Santa thing for the first time around that I should be concerned about. It’s how much we allow Santa to have of our Christmas. It’s just how big we let him become that I should be concerned about. If I’m careful to say all the right things about Christmas and careful to teach the truth of the birth of our Saviour to Sophie, yet not so careful to show in my actions why we celebrate and why the gift of the Babe in the manger was indeed the greatest gift of all time, well, then I’ve robbed her of Christmas. There is no magic of Christmas and although many people consider that just a saying, Christmas isn’t magic, it’s miraculous. Sometimes we act as though our little ones are made to grasp or experience or understand what the world calls the magic of Christmas, yet our faith is so small in believing that they could possibly grasp the reality of the Christ Child. Oh Lord, help my faith.

Christmas can be loud and exhausting. So unlike the quiet manger scenes we display. The shiny and bright can be distracting. We tell ourselves so often that we are giving, giving, giving. Surely this is good? But the Word searches the thoughts and intents of our hearts (Hebrews 4:12). The Word made flesh, the One of whom we celebrate. Does He not see? Yes, giving is good. But let us examine our hearts when we give. Let’s be sure we are giving in our actions and words the reflection of the King.

Finally, I learned that Christmas needs scaling back. Sure, I’ve said that for years. I’ve shaken my head in frustration and even disgust once the fa la la la laing ended. But this year, this reality hooked itself in my heart and I want to determine not to ever let it go. There’s no sadness, so heavy weight of guilt. Only a desire for simplicity. A desire to truly put action to my words. And you know what? I don’t have to wait another year to start. I can do that right now.

All that I have, all that I am, is His. This year,

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.

Psalm 19:14