December I

Who would have thought that the key to attracting countless drop-in guests to one's home in the midst of the busy Christmas season is not exquisitely baked treats, flawless holiday decor, or meticulously wrapped gift packages, but rather....




A batch of fluffy, stinky-breathed, roly-poly puppies?

To date these snuggle muffins have had no less than 40 callers of all ages who just want to sit and hold puppies and watch them do what puppies unpredictably do.

We have entertained the thought of hanging a shingle up at the end of the driveway,

"Puppy Therapy; No Appointment Necessary."

We will miss these critters in a few weeks when they go off to make homes of their own.

Until then, we will relish the puppy bliss!

Happiness is...

...A warm puppy.

Or two.

Or twelve.

They're Growing On Me

I never would have thought of myself as the mother of boys...and certainly not this many of them! So many things I'll never understand. Their amusement with competition, disgusting things, dangerous experiments, firearms, and ruining otherwise lovely snapshots with expressions of death and facial contortions. Did I really enter a certain bedroom recently and out of exasperation have to yell "There is something dead in here and I am not going to be the on who searches for it!"? No, surely that was someone else. And she was presented with a weeks-old dead crayfish. Or crawdad.

But they're growing on me.

I think I'll keep them. Forever. In my heart anyway. And when

they repulse me or it is time to clean the bathrooms again I will direct myself to my mental orchid room where all is feminine and sweet smelling.

They do clean up nicely, though, don't they?

Advent Legacy

It was a full day with the Mayors' Prayer breakfast at 7AM, followed by MOPS, nephews visiting, and a rushed dinner prep of cheesesteaks from Jim's because there just was no time. Couldn't resist opening the envelope from Uncle Henry and Aunt Diane that peeked out from under the junk mail on the counter as the wrapped sandwiches were ripped open by our ravenous crew.

The enclosure with the glittery card took my breath away:

(handwritten)

Christmas Thoughts of 1966

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem,

The stars shown bright in the sky,

Mary and Joseph were by his bed

And the cattle stood nearby.

The shepherds heard the angels sing

Alleluias, to the newborn King,

and the wisemen brought gifts from afar,

Led to the manger by the brightest star.

So let us all with the angels sing

Alleluias to the infant King.

And bring as did the Wisemen of old,

Gifts to the Babe, whom the Prophets foretold.

Alice R.

December 12, 1966

One of my Nana's simple poems that I had not yet heard. So many of these verses were tucked in her little house, stacked amidst Polaroid photos of grandchildren and church bulletins and letters from far way friends. Each week on our way home from church in the city we pass the church where her Daddy Joe pastored a century ago. I suspect he prayed for us and these children of ours without ever knowing us in this lifetime.

She has been singing her own alleluias in Heaven for about 7 years now, but my family continues to daily live with the gifts of her faithful legacy. As we read the poem to our children by candlelight at our advent wreath lighting tonight, I tried to grasp that their faith and ours has been woven through centuries of fellow believers all speaking their love for Him, for His Word, in the company of those coming after them. His Grace is beyond me.