Good news!

Well, we bit the bullet and bought another camera.  Hurrah!  We had a Sears giftcard left over from who knows when sitting in my wallet that we had last pulled out before Clara was born, and so we finished it off and ordered this:

I think.  I'm fairly certain it was this one.  Really, I'm practically Amish when it comes to these sorts of things and I'm sure salespeople can smell it a mile away. 
I remember it wasn't terribly expensive and it came in three colour options and I chose either black or silver.  Or something.  Maybe there were four colours.  Whatever.

Today I begged ten minutes to myself, locked the spare room door and spread out all of the Christmas gifts to organize before wrapping.  Which is how I discovered that Clara had one toy and two stocking stuffers, and Samuel had, like, a pile.  And one of our fathers had one more gift than the other.  And I had something for my brother in law and both nephews but not for my sister in law.  This is NOT GOOD.  I was so sure I had everything covered but I DIDN'T.  ARRRRGGGHHH.

So.  New plan.  I don't know what I was picturing that I had for Clara but in reality I have a wooden stacking ring toy.  I know, I know...but seriously in my head there were more, and I'm just not sure what I was thinking about.  But, since Clara is young and not particularly interested in toys anyway, my plan is to keep her one toy, and get some more stocking stuffers for her.

I'm going to ignore the unbalanced fathers, because they'll never compare gifts and will be far away from each other when opening present time comes.  And that means I really only need to buy a gift for my sister-in-law.

One gift and some stocking stuffers.  Perfectly reasonable.

Anyway, I got all of Sam's gifts wrapped, because he's the one who I'm most concerned about finding his presents before Christmas morning.  On Thursday, when all the cards go out, I'm sending out the Christmas gift box as well.  I thought I had to send three boxes, but it turns out the one of the gifts can go home with my parents who are coming to visit, and the other two are for David's family members who can all recieve in one box and then divy up the presents.  Done.

Next on the list...the tree.

Christmas Shopping Done!

An exhausting week.

After a spur-of-the-moment trip to a craft fair, all of my Christmas shopping is actually done.  Well, not quite done for Clara, and I need to pick up some boring last minutey things, but yes, done.  Done enough to mail off gifts that must be mailed, and that's exciting stuff.

And I have started the Christmas cards.  Whew.  That's always a big one for me and I like to get it started as quickly as possible.  Last year I was not on the ball and was trying to mail Christmas cards too late into December to be able to send overseas.  So far the total is 72, but I haven't done my mother's siblings and their children yet, and I still have several friends to collect addresses from.  The grand total will be close to 90 I would think.

Christmas cards are a family ministry for us.  I purchase our cards on sale after Christmas, collect addresses throughout the year, and fill them out with only our names (90 cards does not equal personal messages) and our family photo.

Our Christmas photo is taken by our lovely friend Laura.  Every year I try to get two family pictures taken, one in early summer and another to send out with Christmas cards.  You can imagine this would be ridiculously expensive if I actually paid for it, but fortunately for me I have talented friends with expensive cameras who are happy to work for cookies.  (Our most recent picture was in June, and you can take a look at it in the About Us section of the blog, if you're curious.)  I've got the children's outfits picked out for the picture, and my own.  David and Samuel have been to get their hair cut.  We've decided where the picture will be taken (spoiler: on the staircase) and decorated the bannister.

I also bought a roll of wrapping paper, and have started saving boxes.  My goal is to have our cards completely ready to go, and the three parcels we need to send sent by Friday.  Two packages to Ottawa and one to New Jersey.

Well, Advent is the season for preparation.

November 8th

Rich beef stew in the stoneware baker in the oven.  Oh I love my stoneware; seriously I think I use it more than anything else in my kitchen.  I'm even thinking of possibly hosting a Pampered Chef party just to get more stoneware.  It's an addiction.  I want this one, oh and this one, oh and THIS one, too.

You know what I'd really like?  If price wasn't at all an option?  This.  Of course I will never be able to afford it, but oh...

Anyway.

The beef stew recipe came from an old cookbook from 1982 called Kitchen Technique: A Complete Guide to Practical Cookery.  It's supposed to be the filling for a pie, but since we're eating as little refined white flour as possible these days, I skipped the pastry part and made it a stew.  It went over really well for lunch.

Feel terribly productive this morning because I finished the quilted placemat I'd promised to make for someone, sewed on the felt monogram this morning, and mailed it off without a problem.  I wish I had a camera right now so that I could have taken a picture.

I've also noticed how observant and prone to mimicking Samuel is becoming.  I want to take advantage of this stage before it passes, and so we're trying little 'dates' to teach social skills.  Today we went to a tea shop to practice how to behave in a restaurant.  Samuel had a hot chocolate and I had a cup of tea and we just had a nice time.  We talked about how once you're on your chair you don't keep hopping off, how if you spill something by accident it's ok, just use your napkin, don't fiddle with the sugar packets, etc.  He was so attentive and sweet and even held the door for me.  After our drink we went to look upstairs from the restaurant where they have a little art gallery, and when we came home that was the part that Samuel wanted to tell David about first; he'd seen pictures.

Our big vegetable pack that I ordered several weeks ago came in today.  It cost $25 but I've split the cost (and the produce) 50/50 with a friend.  The pack is 55lb of carrots, onions, cabbage, potatoes and squash, all locally grown.  Another way we're cutting food costs!  I also ordered us another freezer meat pack, which I'm very excited about.

Look at what I unpacked!

October 23rd

Okay, well I think I just need to bite the bullet on this.  I've not been posting much because I don't have a camera, and I don't like posts without pictures.  But since a camera is not going to arrive in my life anytime soon, I need to just keep posting.

The Advent exchange is up to 12 (12!) participants.  Holy mackerel guys, that's fantastic.  You've got till Thursday to let me know either here or on Facebook that you are going to join in the fun.  So pass on the info to friends who you think might enjoy the exchange.

The childs and their mama were off to week two of women's Bible study.  Oh heavens eight a.m. is just not a good time for me.  I'm not asleep till midnight, and then I nurse a baby twice between then and 6 when I am woken by a pee-soaked toddler climbing into bed with me.  So I do not want to get up, deal with feedings and dressings and washings and walkings and arrivings BY eight in the morning.  But I've done it anyway for two weeks now because I'm really liking these women, and I need to do more Bible study, I really do.

We move in ohmygosheightdays.  Let's not talk about it.

Which is also Hallowe'en.  Guess who thinks she can still make two costumes by hand and take the boy out trick-or-treating the evening of the day we move?  Go on, guess.  No, no, really, it's more fun this way.

He is Risen!

Hallelujah, He is risen indeed!

We woke up and had our egg hunt, which was a resounding success, and then ate a bunch of candy for breakfast.  Since there was a full-fledged snowstorm outside that didn't let up all day and deposited a lot of snow, we decided to go to the Baptist church down the street for service rather than our church, which is a 45 minute walk.  When I called the Baptists to figure out when their service was they invited us to join them for their community breakfast as well. 



Finding the first egg.

You know what doesn't go well with eating in public?  A tired father, a sick two year old and a Mama who cannot, for the life of her, find an outfit that covers all parts of her body at the same time.  I could find a skirt, but no stockings.  I could wear pants, but they didn't cover my belly, and I couldn't find a shirt long enough to cover the waistband of the pants.  I could find two socks that didn't match, but not a matching pair, unless I was ok with holes.  I could NOT find a nursing bra anywhere in any stage of laundry (too much information?  Meh...) and eventually ended up wearing an outfit that, I'm not kidding you, made me look like one of those homeless people who are wearing everything they own in layers.  I had on three shirts: a tank top that went high enough to not be indecent, covered by a shirt that was long enough to cover what stomach my pants couldn't cover but was so low cut I couldn't wear it on its own, covered by a blazer because both other shirts were made of Summery fabric.

And cargo pants.  With sneakers.  It was very classy.



Opened eggs on the sofa.

Samuel and David in their dress pants and argyle looked like they should have arrived with a different woman.  To make it worse, we slunk in to breakfast at the very end and attracted about as much attention as you would imagine a woman who looked like, well, like I looked.  Lots of people coming up to say "Hello.  I don't know that we've met, I'm Carol..." Translation: "You people look odd.  Who are you?"  Lots of 'when are you dues?' as I heave up my waistband for the umpteeth time.  Lots of 'oh isn't your son cute?' as Samuel smears jam all over himself and throws a fit about not being able to eat the centrepiece.
And I couldn't eat their food, and Samuel was full of Easter candy, so David ate three full platefuls of breakfast.  Then we tried to attend the Easter adult Bible study, which lasted all of five minutes before Samuel melted down over not being allowed to play the ancient piano in the study hall.

"Oh, he's so cute." all the Carols cooed.  I dragged him down to the nursery where I locked the two of us in the room and fell asleep while he played.

"Hey, I know a fun game.  Let's pretend that Mommy and the baby need to have a nap on the rug right here.  Ok?"  We played nap for an hour or so while David had actual adult conversation with actual adults while sitting on real big-people chairs.  Then up we went to get Daddy and go to service, which lasted about ten minutes before Sam turned to me and declared his wish to nurse.  Right now.

Back down to the nursery we went, this time with David in tow, and not long after arriving he hopped off my lap and started playing with toys again.  I fell asleep again, occasionally waking up a little bit to hear David saying things like "No, no, no drums while Mama is sleeping."  Eventually I said "listen, I think we've pretty much missed everything by this point, should we just go home?"  And we trudged back home in the continuing snowstorm and tried to take a family nap, which Samuel was having none of, and then David went to work while I kept up the fight: "Samuel, you are exhausted.  Go to sleep.  Lie down.  No, lie down.  Put your head on that pillow right now."  But all that I succeeded in doing was falling asleep, again, myself.  I felt as though I was under the influence of some sort of narcotic today, dropping to sleep constantly.  This time I woke up to discover that Samuel had unwound a cassette tape all over the bedroom floor.

He never did nap.  Instead he watched Bob the Builder and ate applesauce and put Easter stickers all over the windows while I did my best to make up for my incredible sloth by cleaning the stairs to our apartment.  I have no idea why I can't stay awake; David's chalking it up to 'end of pregnancy oddness' and my theory is 'I'm catching whatever everyone else is getting' but whatever the reason, I've spent most of Easter asleep.

Samuel's Birthday Cake

sitting with his new bear.

cake is coming!

two years old.

but don't touch it!

blow on the candles...

Cake with Ms. Nancy

bear on the sleeping bag.

“Little Ministries” for a Lent of Little Things

This Lenten season I’ve tried to keep things simple. I haven’t given up using a pillow or eating bacon, and I haven’t gotten swept up in the newer trend of ‘adding something beneficial’ instead of taking away something superfluous, either. In fact, I probably haven’t been very visibly involved in this Lent at all, but as I mentioned in this post, I have been observing the season in my own way, with a Lent of Little Things.

I have a habit of getting wrapped up in equating my own worth with my ability to be productive, and often that leads down a road that ends exactly opposite from where God wants me!

Trusting not in our own righteousness but in Your manifold grace and mercies.

And the little things this Lent have been my way of acknowledging this truth. I cannot allow myself to get so wrapped up in my own imperfections that I fail to do anything at all for the kingdom. Surprisingly, it turns out that God is much less interested in watching me wallow in self-pity and doubt about being able to ‘do it all’ and much more interested in seeing me turn that responsibility over to Him, and embrace my ability to do something. I joked in my previous post at the beginning of the season that even if I couldn’t do all of the dishes, I could do some of the dishes, and that sums it up nicely.

Of course, human nature being what it is, there’s always the chance of slipping and falling into the habit of saying “I can’t do it all, and I won’t even do what little I can do.” Defeatism is from the enemy, remember this. God is not a defeatist! As my husband preached on Sunday: “We serve a God who doesn’t have a Plan B; He doesn’t need a Plan B.”

I feel as though this defeatist attitude has begun to influence us in the church even into our areas of ministry. We go to church with a vague ‘of course I’ll help out if I’m needed’ attitude, and then fall away from that the moment we step in the door. Do any of these excuses sound familiar?

Someone else is more qualified to do that than I am.

I give money every week for the running of the church; I don’t need to give my time, too.

Retired, young and childless people have more time anyway, let them take these things on.

I have a (insert medical problem) and so I can’t be expected to help out.

Oh, man, I’ve thought all of these things before! But if you plug in the ‘little things’ idea, what you get is a completely different picture!

Maybe I can’t find the time or energy to volunteer with the Sunday School, but I could make it a habit to buy them a set of juice boxes every week when I do my shopping.

Maybe I can’t get to church earlier than I already do to help set up for coffee time, but I could stay an extra 5 minutes after the service to wash up.

Maybe I can’t give much money, or even any money at this stage in my life, but what can I give? Can I offer someone a ride to church? Can I weed the flower bed outside the sanctuary? Can I bring a box of tea? Can I offer to hand out bulletins? Can I re-pot that droopy palm tree in the entryway?

God is NOT a defeatist, and neither should we be! This Sunday is the fifth and final Sunday of the season of Lent - is there something YOU could do this very day, this very minute, right now, that would glorify Him in word or deed?

Beauty For Ashes

A terrible start to Lent in some ways, full of worry and all that, but a great start in so many others!

1.  I didn't freak out that Samuel had tantrums before his nap, after his nap and before bed but I did stress that my wool diaper covers, which I've lanolized twice in the past week, leaked again today and also that I sincerely do not have enough diapers to cover TWO bums and have GOT to do something about that.

2.  But then again, when all I could manage today was using WD40 on the squeaky rocking chair and all the creaking doors in the apartment, I felt seriously productive.  But then I got to worrying about the chemicals in the air...would they hurt Sam?

3.  But THEN I managed to actually get the garbage out before the truck came!  Hallelujah!

4.  And made the worst devilled eggs in history.  Seriously, even Samuel wouldn't eat the yolks.  They were gross.  And I missed my friend's going away party...

5.  But I made it to church for Ash Wednesday, Lord!  And that 30 minutes refreshed me to no end!

Little steps, little steps, stop worrying, Amy, God has it covered.

A Lent of Little Things

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and in honour of this, my favourite Holy Day, I give you a story and a devotion.

Story first!

I became a Christian after college, but my foundations were laid way before that, way back in my childhood, if I want to be completely honest.  This story focuses on those college days, though, since they sit so heavily on my mind as the underpinnings of who I am today.

I went to a college with a very strong Anglican tradition.  We churned out WASPs of the highest degree with startling efficiency.  Wednesday evenings were devoted, for example, to Evensong followed by sherry receptions in the chapel lounge and then a formal dinner in the hall.  To be a part of Evensong had nothing at all to do with whether you were 'religious' or even, for that matter, Christian, and everything to do with politics.  As a first year student I found myself rooming beside the head of the altar guild and was convinced to become a reader during the service one week.  I was a good reader, and I really enjoyed the 'smells and bells' of the whole enterprise and got heavily into the chapel community.  I wasn't a Christian, and I'd tell you as much if you asked me, but I rose up to head the altar guild myself by second year and was thurifer for the year as well.  In my spare time from studies I always wound up in the chapel, thick with the old smoke that permeated the pews, polishing silver in some back room, or cleaning the fair linens (which you NEVER use soap on, only boiled water slowly strained through the port-stained bits).

I was, to put it lightly, very very involved in something that I barely understood and certainly didn't believe in.

With such a plethora of beautiful, perfectly executed services (our choir was award winning and had put out multiple cds, for goodness sakes!) you'd think that one particular service wouldn't necessarily stand out in my mind, but there was one that always did.  Ash Wednesday fit me like a glove.  It was solemn, but trusting, and walking around with the mark of ashes on my forehead always touched me somehow in a way that few other Christian symbols did.  I loved the symbolism, I loved the visibility of it; I loved the 'secret club' feeling of walking across the campus and spotting someone else with a telltale smudge and smiling at them.  We (forget that I wasn't part of this club at all!) were in it together.

And so Ash Wednesday, and it's counterpart in my mind, the Easter vigil, have always stood out for me in the Christian year.  They are the bookends of Lent.  If I could choose the time of my own death, I would choose the vigil, since I could never miss Ash Wednesday, have only missed a few of the services in the twelve years since I first experienced one, and every year, I wait for it.

Now, the devotion.

Lenten devotions have acquired a bad rap in recent years I think.  These days it seems trendy to either make fun of Lent (ie: I'm giving up giving up things!  Or I don't smoke, so I'm giving up smoking!) or else Lent has turned into a way to add something new to your life to improve it.  While I'm fine with self-improvement, I think that that moves us away from the meaning of Lent, and so, despite not always accomplishing my goal, I have tried to start my sacrifices with a meek and contrite spirit, even if they haven't always ended that way.

Lent this year is falling at a very stressful and anxious time.  Samuel is having significant 'two-ness' and the beginnings of what could be separation anxiety and is certainly shyness.  Our second baby is due just after Easter, my life is turning upside down with the end of work and the beginnings of so many other things.  David is still without a ministry job, we are still far from friends and family, and February is a tough, long, dark month.  I find that Lent comes when I am already at my spiritual maximum.  I'm drained; I cannot tithe of myself at all.

And yet, this is when Christ is asking us to, and he must know what he asks of me.  Although Lent, this year, will be a struggle, maybe that's as it should be.  I wasn't certain wht I was going to give up this year, but I think I know now.  I'm going to try and give up my 'it all must be done' attitude and embrace a Lent of Little Things.  A Lent that focuses on not allowing myself the self-indulgence of "I'm tired" and instead forces me to acknowledge that my strength is in the Lord by taking one step, and then another...

If you haven't thought of your Lenten devotion yet for this year, why not consider a Lent of Little Things?  Little steps forward, instead of frozen anxiety and fear.  I cannot, for example, consider packing my hospital bag.  It's an overwhelming idea for me, but I can take one step to packing it.  I can find the bag I want, or I can match up nursing pads and put them on my dresser.  I can't face the dishes from supper, but I can wash a rack of plates every time I walk into the kitchen.  I can put the pot on the stove for making applesauce, even if I absolutely cannot make time to make applesauce.  And the next time I'm in the kitchen I can take the apples out of the fridge.  The next time I can wash them.  The next time I can take out the cutting board...by the end of the day, I have made applesauce.

There have been years in the past when I've thrown caution to the wind and said "God, here is my big sacrifice!" but this season of my life is not one of additional big sacrifices.  And God, big as he is, wants my little steps, too.

Have a blessed Ash Wednesday.

Christmas Part 2

More Christmas Videos!

David opening his gift from Samuel.

The Presentation of Jesus

http://liturgicalyear.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/jesus-at-the-presentation-of-the-temple.jpg

This Sunday is the celebration of the naming of Jesus.  I don't have a favourite picture of that, and I'm not sure I've seen any famous ones.  It would, after all, have more than likely happened ina very small ceremony with a rabbi.  However I do have an all-time favourite picture of the presentation of Jesus at the temple.  What a wonderful set of expressions on their faces.  In Luke it reads:

"When the time of their purification accounrding to the Law of Moses had been completed, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord..."

The purification to which Luke refers can be found in the Old Testament, but as a rough synopsis I can tell you that Mary would have been considered unclean for 40 days after the birth of a son and 80 days after the birth of a daughter.  During this period of time she would have been forbidden many activities and probably would have simply rested and been with her child.  After her 40 days were finished she would have made her way to the local Mikvah, or special baths kept in every Jewish community.  Under the watchful eye of a Mikvah attendent she would have removed all of her clothing, her jewellery, bandages, even scabs are suspect, and immersed herself three times in the water.  When every inch of her had been wet, she would be considered ritually clean and able to resume the life of a wife and citizen again.

Jesus, who would have been circumcised eight days after birth (the Naming of Jesus) would have travelled with them to Jerusalem to be presented at the temple as a first-born son.  Two pigeons or two turtle-doves were a sacrifice to be given on this occasion.  Although it isn't time yet for us to celebrate the presentation, the two events are so closely linked in my mind that I can't help but want to tie them together.  After all, we know so few things about Jesus's childhood that those pivotal moments from when the wise men left them to return to the East and the shepherds returned to their flocks, and when Jesus astounds us all at the age of twelve at the temple, we have only assumptions, and a few facts on which to base everything we know of the childhood of God.

Christmas Part 1

Opening presents from David's parents

Opening presents from my parents.

A Christmas Stocking

Last year, completely on a whim, I started making a stocking for Samuel, which I never finished.  I've found some of the footage I shot of it, although I've tried numerous times to load it onto Blogger to no avail.

Anyway, I found the stocking, which, as I said, I had never finished, and I decided to ditch the crummy red makeshift cheapie thing that I was planning to use, get my act together, FINISH the stocking I'd started, and give him a proper Christmas.  Because, clearly, Christmas is ALL about having a nice stocking.  *ahem*

Tonight was the night, and although I had to spend about an hour trying to thread my ancient sewing machine (since Samuel had oh-so-nicely done something to it) it didn't turn out badly.  Actually, I'm really very happy with it.  Here you go, pictures:

The stocking, front view.  Laying, as most things I take pictures of do, on my washer.  That funny-looking bumpy beige thing in the foreground in actually my baby bump.

A picture from the back, so that you can see how the ribbon is tied.  I made the tie slightly to the rear of the stocking so that when you hang it, it keeps the stocking straight and not off-kilter.  But I am incredibly anal about things like that, so put YOUR ribbon where you please.

A close up of the ribbon back.  I sewed the edges right on to the seam of the cuff.

It's on the small side, and that's on purpose.  I wanted smaller stockings because I try to minimize stress around the holidays, and knowing I'd have to fill up a giant stocking every year would give me too much stress.

The Christmas Parade

Earlier this month we went with David's parents, who were visiting from the city, to see our small town Christmas parade.

The Christmas Tree

We went and bought our Christmas tree today.  Last week we had gone around town and priced how much the trees were (anywhere from $24-$30 for a full sized one) before finding that Home Hardware had a man selling smaller trees for as little as $15.  We thought about it, but $15 was still, well, $15 for a tree.  It's a lot of money on a tight budget and I can think of many, many things to use that $15 for!  But we wanted Samuel to have a tree, and so today we went back.

After scrounging the house and my pockets I had $11 to spare, and so on the way to see the tree man I prayed "Lord, give me $4 in the next twenty minutes or please let the man take what is less than half of the price he could charge for a tree!"  And I felt quite content, because the tree, or the $4, would show up somehow.

When we arrived on the lot David said "ok, go talk to him then!" and I wandered over and fiddled with a beautiful spruce for a bit before catching his attention.  Of course, he was charming to a prospective customer, but I plowed on and asked "Your smaller trees, are they ALL $15?"  "Most of them" he replied "I could go a bit cheaper." 

"We have $11.  Would you let any tree go for $11?"  And although I knew, just KNEW, that God had a Christmas tree for us (after all, I hadn't discovered $4 on my walk!) I also knew that the tree for us was going to be a Charlie Brown sort of deal somewhere at the back of the piles!  And I was ok with that.

"Well, the one you have right there, you can have that for $11."  He said, pointing at the beautiful big spruce I had been nervously fiddling with.

And that's how we ended up with the perfect tree.  A tree that no where else in town could we have purchased for $11 in change.  A God tree, indeed.

I meant to write a little Easter Sunday post about what we ended up giving Samuel!  But then I got tired, and drank a lot of tea, and went to bed.  So here you go - one day late.

So...he's one.  No chocolate.  What do you give a one year old that isn't edible, is small enough to pack in already-overflowing suitcases, and isn't a stuffed animal?  Well, I bought one of these papier mache eggs.

It isn't this one, but this is close enough.  And then we filled it.  First one of these:



A little tiny music box with a bunny on it that plays 'Singing in the Rain'.  Samuel adores it.  Then one of these:

A little handsewn brown felt bunny.  And of course:

Because I like glittery Easter stickers!  And then David bought him a video on sale to watch when we get home:

He's still pretty young for all of this, so we kept it simple.  Everything got hidden under a pillow, but he still loved it.  Next year we may have to get more creative!

A stomach bug and Easter

At around 1am this morning I woke up with searing stomach pain which, at it's worst, felt like labour.  I moved around the house restless with pain, finally running hot water into the bath and going to sleep in it for over an hour.  I know, don't sleep in the bath, but don't worry I've slept with a baby for a year, I understand the whole sleeping-but-not-soundly method.  I didn't drown.  Then I tried a makeshift hot water bottle, Pepto Bismol (which shows how desperate I was since it actually said not to take if nursing), drinking warm water, etc.  It was over three hours before the pain subsided enough for me to fall into a sleep from which I was wakened, every thirty minutes or so, by my son elbowing me in the stomach.  David took the baby for the morning and walked to Walmart to buy yogurt, and then I attempted a grocery trip that resulted in my having to rest on the side of the butter cooler for a bit until the waves of awfulness passed.  At first I thought, food poisoning?  But I hadn't eaten anything that someone else hadn't also eaten so my guess is it's a bug.  Let's all pray the baby doesn't get it.

And now I'd like to talk to you about the Easter bunny.

David announced cheerfully the other day that he thought we should go home for Easter.  Home is, while not faaaarrrrr away, about a 15 hour drive or an overnight train trip or half a day spent in the airport, depending on your preferences and budget.  Seeing as both of our families live there, along with a good many friends, we'd love to go back to visit.  Easter seemed good, we could combine business with pleasure and visit a church we've been looking into for a while, hoping they might need us once David gets licensed, and then we could spend the rest of the week visiting and taking lots of photos.

So I called my mom to let her know and boy was she excited.  "Oh, Easter!  Hey, Samuel could have the Easter bunny here!"  she exclaimed.  "Well, sure, mom, I mean if you want to that's fine."  She must have heard some hesitation in my voice and said "Well, you guys are okay with the Easter bunny, right?"  I assured her that although David and I would probably not be Easter bunny folk we didn't have a problem with it being something the children did at Granny and Grumpa's house.

But after I hung up I felt a little guilty.  I certainly hadn't meant to imply to my mother that her excitement over an Easter egg hunt was misguided.  I don't have a problem with Easter egg hunts or anything like that, and for all I know we might start a tradition of egg hunts or Easter baskets or a new church outfit or something with our children.

Actually our feelings about holidays are, I think, pretty simple.  I believe that the focus of the holiday should be on what the holiday is actually about.  Rituals, traditions and whatever should try and stay on that theme as much as possible.  Anything that is simply encouraging unhappiness should be cut, and whatever figures you choose to incorporate into your celebration should be used as a source of fun and not seriously.

So, take Easter, since we're talking about it.  I'm not going to tell Samuel that there is actually an Easter bunny.  Because there is not actually an Easter bunny.  However the reason children love the idea of the Easter bunny is not because he really exists (because honestly the thought of a giant, sentient rabbit who can break into your house is terrifying) but because his existence means chocolate and finding lots of eggs.  Will our children have egg hunts?  I can't see why not.  Will there be chocolate?  Oh, you'd better believe there will.  Will I pretend that a huge rodent delivered it?  Nope.  Easter is about the death and resurrection of Christ.  Chocolate is nice, but not the focal point of the holiday, and any interesting sidelines like painting eggs or whatever, while certainly welcome, will be set aside if it looks like they threaten to overtake the main event.

And when I say 'things that encourage unhappiness' I mean entitlement issues.  I'm just fine with painting eggs and getting a chocolate bunny in a basket on Easter morning and what have you, but we're going into the ministry and money, which has never been lavish around here, is not going to become any less tight in the next few years.  There might be an Easter when those things, chocolate, toys, new clothes, etc., are not present.  There will never be an Easter when we don't go to church.  So as much as possible I want to focus on the aspects of the holidays that don't end up being disappointing.  If it's all about the big morning egg hunt, and that egg hunt doesn't happen, then what's it all about?

I don't feel like we're going about this in an illogical way, but I do realize that our faith plays a big role in our decisions regarding child rearing.  Maybe I'm scarring my child irrevocably by refusing to play along with the Big Bunny theory.  We didn't have a present from Santa under the tree this year for Samuel, either, but he was really too young to understand.  What about the tooth fairy?  Do we 'do' the tooth fairy?  Exhausting.

How do you handle these things?

More pictures

Another sort of worn out day.  Here are some more pictures...I'll feel better soon, I promise.

Walking in beautiful untouched snow after a storm.

Our nativity scene this year was made locally out of beeswax.  The ornament in the front was a gift for Samuel from the Anglican church in town after he played Christ in the Christmas pageant.

Pictures

I feel very drained today with lots of things weighing me down.  So...no post for now, instead I'm giving you some pictures.

Samuel's favourite part of knitting

Sitting with Daddy

David played Santa so we went to see him

Quint

Jesse



Twas the night before the night before the night before Christmas...

This year is Samuel's very first Christmas and I wanted it to be special.  Not only did it have to be meaningful and picturesque but it had to be stress-free and, since this is the year I have truly begun to feel a calling towards a domestic vocation, it had to be filled with spiritual goodness.   My family was going to rise up and call me blessed if it killed me!  And so I had great and noble plans for an Advent wreath.  I debated ordering special candles online but waited too long to get it done, and so instead I went to the local natural food store and bought four of these lovely little local beeswax Christmas tree candles, spending over $10 on them, which was exhorbitant and not really in my budget anyway.  But I was going to  have an Advent wreath, gosh darn it.  I brought out a silver platter to display them on, making note on the way to buy silver polish.  It was a lot of work to polish a platter only to drip beeswax on it, yes, but I was going to have an Advent wreath! I bundled up the baby into his stroller, which he hates, and we went for a walk to pick authentic greenery to place around our candles (completely covering the silver platter but that's beside the point) which took forever and still wasn't accomplished by the end of our walk, despite the screaming infant.  Yes, it was stressful, but I was going to have an Advent wreath!  I cleared off the table, muttering all the while, completely absorbed in complaining about clutter - no where to place the blessed wreath!  I thought into the night about what to decorate it with, even going so far as to debate painting pinecones and collecting nuts to scatter, and breaking into our stored decorations to look for perfect ornaments.  Then about two weeks before Christmas I was lying in bed, chatting with a friend before turning in to read (The Complete Food Encyclopedia, if you're curious) when the phone went dead and the power went off.  I mean really went off, even the street lights.  I have grown in many ways over the years but I am ashamed to say that my childhood fear of the dark has never gone away.  I felt an immediate rush of adrenaline and then a cold terror.  The baby was asleep in the next room but David was at work and would be for hours.  I told myself to be calm, just breathe, everyone was safe, everything was okay, but I was shaking as I rummaged in the pitch black for the small flashlight that I usually keep on my bedside table.  It wasn't there.  Friends, I had to go into the dark hallway and find a light.  I knew there was a large flashlight in the livingroom, but when I got there I found it was out of batteries.  I made my way, holding the wall and shaking like a leaf, to the kitchen, where I knew there was a book of matches and a scented candle I keep on the stove.  I lit it, and it's dull light barely gave me enough vision to make it back to the livingroom.  Then I remembered the Christmas tree candles.  I debated for a moment, because I knew I didn't have enough time before Advent to go back out and get more, even if I could afford the luxury of hand-made candles, which I really can't.  I decided my fear of the dark outweighed my desire for the perfect Advent wreath, and I lit two of the trees.  They burst into light, putting my little scented candle to shame, and burned so steadily and brightly that immediately I felt better.  I even gathered up a book and a blanket to sit in the livingroom and wait for David's arrival home.  And although they burned quickly, they were beautiful, and so welcome, so peaceful and so meaningful.  I don't think that Samuel will give a hoot about an Advent wreath this year, and although I wanted it so badly, wanting that symbol actually ended up ruining the meaning of it for me.  When I needed it, the candles I had purchased to pray for the arrival of the Christ child ended up being Christ's instruments to minister to me.  A light unto my darkness and a cessation of my all-too-real fears.