Christmas Cards

Every year I sit down & attempt to compose a meaningful Christmas card message, with the hopes that someone (or maybe two) will actually read it.


Every year I contemplate not sending said cards as my dear accountant husband calculates the cost of 100+ photos, cards, &, of course, postage.

Every year I try to cut down my list in a vain attempt at reducing this line item in the budget.

And every year I come to the same conclusion… Generally speaking, I do not correspond with 90% of my Christmas card recipients… Many have never even met, or at best, rarely see the Goose… Most have a very special place in my heart & are worth much more than the 87 cents I spend on their annual greeting.

And so, instead of opting out or cutting down, the list grows… New friends are added, old friends remain. Sadly, each year also brings a few deletions of those who have gone home. But the tradition stands… come hell or high water… no matter how much the postal service increases the cost of a measly stamp… even if the Goose refuses to smile for the picture & has the worst hair day ever… the cards must go out… So that you know that you are special to us, even if I am worse-than-terrible at keeping up with 90% of you… at some point in our lives, you made an impression on our hearts… you made the list.

Here’s hoping I can sum all that up in five sentences or less.

Transparent

Defn.: having the property of transmitting light without appreciable scattering so that bodies lying beyond are seen clearly
OR
- free from pretense or deceit : FRANK
- easily detected or seen through : OBVIOUS
- readily understood

That’s what I would like to be: transparent. And not just part B of the definition, but the whole thing. Unlike a large portion of our population, I don’t really want to be seen or heard.
Perhaps that seems odd, but it’s true. Sure, I would like to be “free from pretense” & easy to understand, but more than that… I want to “transmit light […] so that bodies lying beyond are seen clearly”. Well, really just one body. If you think about it, isn’t that what all Christians are supposed to be... see-through-light-transmitters?

I want people to look right through me. I want my words to pass right by them… like I’m not even there. I want them to see someone so much greater & hear words that are so much sweeter. I don’t want to get in the way. Don’t look at me. Look through me… see Him… hear Him.
Oh to be like glass… but, being the realist that I am, my goal is to be sort-of like pink plastic wrap… you know, the tinted kind that’s only available during a holiday season. It’s a bit more colorful than regular plastic wrap, so you may not see perfectly through it, but you can definitely still tell what’s underneath that fancy protective covering.

Mustache

The goose has her first cold of the season. No big deal… just the usual. Her very runny nose & breathing out of her mouth has made her lips & nose very sore. Again… nothing unusual there. But Sunday, as we sat at the breakfast table, she looked up from her muffin with such a sad, serious face & pitifully sighed, “mommy, my mustache hurts.”

Her daddy replied (after he practically shot juice out of his nose), “your what?!?”

But I, kind soul that I am, understood exactly what she meant… you see, on Sesame Street, Elmo learned what a mustache was… and poor goose just thought it was the part of your body between your nose & lip…. And THAT is what hurt… her mustache.

Admit it. THAT’s funny. Even if it is a little bit sad too. (and yes, we did explain that a mustache is not a body part… I am not that terrible)

Love Story

(& don’t worry, it’s not about me!)

The “L-word” is a bit over-used (& abused) in my opinion. We use the same word to describe our fondness for a tv show, coffee & shoes as we do our deep affection for our family & friends. But true love, not the sappy chic-flick kind of love, but the real deal… love that never fails… I see most clearly in the wrinkled faces of Granny & Grandan.

They’ve been worried for weeks about the date of their anniversary... afraid that at 94 & 95 they might forget to remember to that special day. One day the goose & I dropped by to find Granny shuffling through old papers, trying to find the date of their wedding written amongst her list of birthdates. Grandan, who is usually sleeping, was wide awake & the happiest to see us I think he’s ever been.

He wanted someone to tell them (again) when their anniversary was (though Granny denied not knowing). Once reminded, all was right in their world again, & Grandan fell promptly back to sleep.

When the big day arrived, Granny and Grandan were settled in the den while their helper was working in the kitchen when she heard a strange sound… Grandan was singing. As she puts it “I runned in there because I thought somebody’d flipped out!” But to her surprise, there sat the 94 year-old man singing to his 95 year-old bride, and I quote… “she was just a grinnin’!” He couldn’t remember all of the words, but here is what he tried to sing:

On the farmhouse veranda,
There sat Silas and Miranda,
Thinking of the days gone by.
Said he "Dearie, don't be weary,
You were always bright and cheery,
But a tear, dear, dims your eye.
Said she "They're tears of gladness,
Silas, they're not tears of sadness,
It is fifty years today since we were wed.
 Then the old man's dim eyes brightened,
And his stern old hear, it lightened,
As he turned to her and said:


Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.

I was in the same old bonnet,
With the same blue ribbon on it,
In the old shay, by his side,
That he drove her up to Dover,
Through the same old fields of clover
To become his happy bride.


The birds were sweetly singing
And the same old bells were ringing,
As they passed the quaint old church where they wed,
And that night when the stars were gleaming,
The old couple lay a-dreaming,
Dreaming of the words he said:


Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.

I recounted this story to my husband (as he tried to go to sleep that night) & I asked him, who NEVER EVER sings (Seriously, I have never heard him so much as hum a tune), if he would sing to me when we are old. He chuckled & replied, “I’ll sing to you ... after I’ve flipped out.” Well, as long as we get to flip out together, I guess that’s ok. I’ll wait…. Because that’s love.

Fall Flashback... October

As promised, here are a few photo highlights from October... Fall took it's time coming, but we are finally under 80 degrees and loving it!   Despite the warm October days, the goose enjoyed a visit to the pumpkin patch & buzzing around the neighborhood in search of tons of treats...

Worth a thousand words

I had great hopes for blogging. Every day? Clearly not, but… maybe a few times a week. AT LEAST weekly… or… well… let’s face it… more than once a month looks like it’s the best I can do. Of course, there have been moments I wanted to share, and I hope someday to share them… if my poor memory will retain those moments until my poor schedule (or a crack-bucks overload) will accommodate that.


This memory, however, will not wait… so forgive me if I skip a few weeks & later take a blog-flashback or two.

This weekend, the goose & I headed out to the park. The plan was to meet some friends, snap some pics for a sweet boy’s first birthday, pick up a few new leaves for our “collection” & check out all the fun fountains. While we were waiting on our friends, the goose explored a bit, tested out the best jumping & climbing spots, and I snapped a few test-shots.

The goose was an excellent helper, thanks to the bag of starbursts hay-hay brought along, & was eager to get in at least one picture with her BFF. So at the last (and largest) fountain, she climbed up next to her friend, put on her best smile, lost her balance & fell right in. While I could attempt to describe the next few moments, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so here are four:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All’s well that ends well though. The goose dried off, walked to the car in my jacket, called Daddy & proudly announced that she would not need a bath… she already had hers… in the fountain.

Holding On

I love this picture… sure it’s a little fuzzy (that’s what you get with a cell phone camera), no, it’s not artistic, but… I love it. After a long day of preparation & an early morning at the hospital, this is where the Goose ended up Monday afternoon… in Momma’s lap, holding on to her blankie & to her “bracelets”. The child who abhors band-aids (& cries if anyone even says the word) would not give up her pink & purple hand-wrap that the nurse kindly let her keep long after her IV was gone. She wore it all day, even when wet, even when coated in syrup. She wouldn’t let it go. Maybe it was some sort of battle-prize. (she seemed more excited about it than the snow white Barbie she got upon our return home) Maybe she just liked the colors. Who knows… but it was hers & no amount of bribery was getting it off.

I felt the same way…. Holding on… refusing to let go… for hours I held her, rocked her, slept beside her… I didn’t want to let go… not again… because that was the hardest part of my day.

I remember the first time I let her go… when she was just a tiny baby… handing her to the nurse & watching them walk away to surgery. I cried, of course, but I did it… I let go. And it was then that I understood so clearly that she isn’t really mine. I understood that I had to let her go, just for a little while so she could be better for a long time. I understood that she is God’s child, so much more than she is mine & that HE would hold her for me… He would hold her while I couldn’t… then and throughout her whole life. I understood that this was just the first time I would have to let her go… no matter how hard it was for me.

On Monday, I thought it would be easier. I thought, “I’ve done this before. I know God will hold her for me. It won’t be so hard this time.” But I was wrong. It was harder. The last words I heard were cries for me & I couldn’t & can’t let those go… no matter how hard I try or how much I want them to be erased from my memory.

It seems no matter how much I know… no matter how much I trust… I still have trouble letting go… even for a little while. I know another day will come, when I will have to let her go again… and I know who will be there to hold her when I can’t, but until then, I’m holding on as much as I can. I have my goose, she has her “bracelet”, & He’s holding on to us both.