Let the stable still astonish

Straw-dirt floor, dull eyes,
Dusty flanks of donkeys, oxen;
Crumbling, crooked walls;
No bed to carry that pain,
And then, the child,
Rag-wrapped, laid to cry
In a trough.

Who would have chosen this?
Who would have said: “Yes,
Let the God of all the heavens and earth
be born here, in this place.” ?

Who but the same God
Who stands in the darker, fouler rooms of our hearts
and says, “Yes, let the God
of Heaven and Earth
be born here —-

in this place.”

By Leslie Leyland Fields

Poor guy

Do you think Santa is out of sorts in January? You know, overtired, discouraged by commercialism, strained back….

I’m only asking because I think I saw him shopping with Mrs Claus today at Freshco and he was pretty grouchy. He kind of cheered me up (just as you would expect Santa to) Here was someone shopping who was feeling grouchier than me.  Poor guy. It made me want to go home and bake him a cake.  

Very own

Before there was online shopping, there were catalogues.  Nice big thick ones.  The Sears catalogue and Eatons catalogues came as dependably as the seasons.  When I was a little girl, I took up scissors and snipped out the pictures of the babies.  Oh the babies, the babies! There were always a charming assortment. Perfectly wonderful paper dolls.  Not just paper dolls but my children. My very own family. 

 

Say cheese

When my daughters were very young, four and one, my mother-in-law spontaneously wished to have their picture taken at the mall with Santa  

I can’t think why she wanted a perfect stranger in a photo with her little granddaughters but I guess she was just overcome by the sheer joy of the season.

I don’t remember if we had to wait in a line, only that I felt vaguely foolish. 

My four year old was a friendly little sprite and sat on Santa’s knee without a backward glance. If I was near and  felt no fear, then neither did she.  Any friend of mine was a friend of hers. 

My one year old of course, felt completely the opposite about the situation, such are the vagaries of sibling personality. She wasn’t influenced at all by her nonchalant sister perched on Santa’s knee. Instead she screamed in terror. And kept on screaming as the picture was snapped. 

Baby looking traumatized. Big sister looking concerned.  Santa looking tired. 

Say cheese.  

Same awe

Jubilant.  Isn’t that the perfect name for someone who sings as though his heart has wings? 

The first time I ever heard Mary Did You Know, it was sung by Jubilant Sykes. Lyrics, melody and voice together became something so powerfully moving and memorable that I just need to hear the first notes to feel the same awe and joy I felt then. 

Light of the world

 

You are gazing at my Christmas tree, a sort of birds eye view,  as though you were kneeling down to squeeze a package or sneak a chocolate. 

The lights are new this year. They have caused me to gasp in admiration and murmur aloud on several wintery mornings. I think it is because for the first time in.....decades......the lights are the shape of the lights of childhood. I've loved these new lights. My only regret is that there are no pink or purple in the mix but perhaps I can find replacement lights someday. They did sell strands that were entirely purple. 

It may seem odd to be chatting about a Christmas tree as we teeter here on the very far edge of January but I just took the tree down last week! What?!! Yes indeed. It is the latest I've ever left the tree up. Once long ago my January baby asked me to leave the tree up for her birthday which is the 15th but this year has swept that old record away completely. 

It wasn't laziness that left my tree up so long. Or apathy. 

It was the lights, shining from beyond branches dark.

It was the level of joy they brought and kept bringing. 

Light of the world
You stepped down into darkness
Opened my eyes, let me see
Beauty that made this heart adore You
Hope of a life spent with You

Here I am to worship
Here I am to bow down
Here I am to say that You're my God

You're altogether lovely
Altogether worthy
Altogether wonderful to me

list

My granddaughter gave me her Christmas list. It was so long she kindly put it in a duo-tang folder.

I heard the bells

I have a favourite Christmas carol. It has been my favourite for so many years that I don't even remember beginning to love it. It is just part of Christmas for me.
I went to a tiny little church in a tiny little town when I was a child. The pastor was a passionate and theatrical man who loved to sing and maybe I first heard it sung there. Or maybe I learned it from the printed sheets that were doled out every December in school, hand over hand from desk to desk.
I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day began life as a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It was 1863, right in the middle of the Civil War which now that I think of it explains the pain and passion so palpable.
Nine years later a musician and composer named John Baptiste Calkin, set Longfellow's poem to music and it has 'rolled along th'unbroken song' ever since.

I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along th’unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Till, ringing, singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

dolls are important

Dolls are important. They are the babies of children. 

The dollies these clothes were made for arrived Christmas morning dressed in sleepers. They NEEDED dresses..and bonnets (reversible ones)....and bloomers.....and slippers. (bunny slippers with pink pom pom noses)

 They needed bunting bags.....with detachable hoods.

And I needed an assembly line.

Double snuggle

Double dress-up

Fun x 2.

stash of cash

Children were out and about today, spending their Christmas money.
Thank goodness for Zip Loc bags.
Two little girls emptied one onto a counter and their auntie sorted through their scrunched up bills, and at least a pound of assorted change that included tokens from Disneyland.
There were some pretty nimble mathematics performed as toys were considered, minus the sale price, plus the tax, times two little girls, divided by the available stash of cash.

white paper

It's pretty fun to paint winter. Especially watercolor winter. Lots of white paper that way.

it never came

A nine foot Santa towers in a yard across the street at work. He gazes straight ahead fixedly as though stunned, a wreath clutched in his big inflated hands.
I recognize the look.
Have felt it myself.
Poor Santa.
Still, I think he is doing better than the Minion up the street. Minions are sadly top heavy, a terrible flaw in an inflatable lawn ornament.  At least Santa is still upright. The Minion has spent the past few weeks face down examining the lawn or on his back, gazing up at the sky, endlessly watching for snow.
It never came.

excelsis Deo

"Angels we have heard on high," I sang, handing my grandson a wooden angel to hang on the tree.
Without missing a beat he joined me.
"Sweetly singing o'er the plain, and the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strains."
"Glo, o,o,o,o,oria, in excelsis Deo."

I knew I would always remember him just as he was in that moment.
A picture engraved,
like a snapshot,
of a nine year old,
so tall now,
singing,
our voices blending as we hung the Christmas ornaments.
Me re-learning how to say excelsis Deo.

good will

I had watched her spread icing on a gingerbread man so carefully,
absorbed in her work,
choosing the colored candies,
placing a halo of gumi bears round the paper plate.
The teacher called to them, her little flock of chicks, and they fluttered and scrambled obediently out of their chairs to join her at the front.
A kindergarten choir.

I blinked and tried to look away but the sweetness of their faces, of her face was so captivating.
She sang earnestly, her head bent down slightly so that she looked up with large, shining eyes.
Such eyes and I felt my own begin to fill again.
It's the contrast.
It's the contrast between dark and light, between love and hate and sweetness and all that is good...... and all that is not.

Especially at this time of year.

This precious child.
These precious children.
This precious world, filled to the brim....
It needs a Savior.
It needs peace on earth, good will toward men.

christmas jigsaw

As I am typing this, somewhere, someone is hunkered over their sewing machine, stitching like mad.
Later tonight, they will post a picture of a finished quilt on their blog, and tomorrow, there it will be for all to see.
And then, like lights going on in a town at dusk, here and there, people like you and me will be seized with a burning desire to make one too.
Inspiration is a heady thing.
Last week, ohfransson posted a picture of a little quilt she called Skeleton Key. 
I gasped.
I rushed to my stash and plucked out a charm pack. 
Skeleton Key was made using 30 five inch blocks, all wonderfully solid and fabulously colored. The result is a striking tessellation; a very modern quilt. 
I used 25 five inch blocks in very muted, somber shades of green and brown and cranberry. I decided to line up the seams rather than offset them as they are in Skeleton Key because they made me happier that way. It really is true that a quilt will help you if you let it. 
I was astonished when the quilt top was finished because I realized I had made a Christmas quilt. What? In June? Well, why not, we're half way there.
I decided to name my quilt Christmas Jigsaw in honor of the many jigsaw puzzles that have entertained us during the Christmas season.
I took my celebratory picture outside against a backdrop fresh and green. 
Ta Da. I mean, Fa La La La La

the line

Oh dear. I think I have crossed an invisible line.
No warning lights flashed and no gong sounded so I wandered into the danger zone and stepped over the line.
Actually, I'm pretty sure that the line is so far behind me now that I can actually act as a warning device myself. You know what they say, 'If you can't be a good example, be a horrible warning.'
Well here I am, horrible but happy.

It started with a simple first step.
It always does of course.
I was given a nativity set by my sister as a Christmas gift.
She painted it herself in ceramics class back when that was the craft of the year.
I've had it almost as long as I've been married.
When my girls hit their teens, I bought them a nativity set each year for several years.
I didn't realize then that this was a second step, skidding me perilously close to the line.
I was given a second nativity and eventually a third and my fate was sealed.
If you have one nativity, you are just observing Christmas.
If you have two, you are just getting into the spirit of the seaon.
But if you have three, it becomes official. You have a collection.
And of course, once you achieve that status, it is important to maintain it by collecting.
But there is a line.
It always seemed way out there somewhere in the blue until recently.
And now I have crossed it.
I am no longer just a casual collector of Nativity sets.
I am drawn to them and they to me.
I would be wise to avoid the Seasonal area of thrift shops or as my husband would urge, thrift shops in general.
Perhaps it is not too late.
I can just barely see the line still and if I double back, I might be able to cross to the other side again.
The sensible side.
The sane and safe side.
Or not.

Made in Japan, and vintage just like me.

 Very tiny plastic set made in Hong Kong long ago.

Hand carved and very small. Does small count?

not bad

If you enjoy thrift shops like I do, I'm betting that you have a route inside the store; a certain path you travel as you forage. It could be traced on a floor plan, so predictable are your steps.
My last stop is usually the 'seasonal' area. It is Christmas all year long there, and Easter and Valentines Day too for that matter. I have pounced on some amazing vintage finds there.
Yesterday as I wandered past ragged wreaths and ceramic villages, I spotted a small bag of figurines.
I picked it up and squinted.
Why do I leave the house without my reading glasses?
Treasures and junk alike are lumped into bags at thrift stores.
It can be hard to tell what you are really getting.
One bag looked like it held a complete nativity.
I peered and pondered.
It looked old.
I like old.
Then I spotted a second bag.
It bulged with sheep and camels.
And underneath that bag was another filled with angels, and another....
Fifty cents is one of my favourite prices.
And nativities are one of my favourite finds.
I hastened to the till.
In the bright light of the parking lot, I could clearly see that the figurines were made in Italy.
A price sticker remaining inside one of the wisemen showed the pieces came from Woolworths.
Not bad for a person shopping by braille.

silent stars

"Do you think it's all there?" I asked, fingering the tattered box.
"Oh, I'm sure it is," she said, nodding decisively.
The box was taped shut with two kinds of tape and had elastic bands securing it too, a sort of thrifter's Fort Knox.
I hesitated and then took a leap of faith.

When I was a little girl we had a wonderful lithographed cardboard nativity. It came folded in a box and could be set up, magically it seemed, into the entire Christmas story. There was a hole in the roof behind the cardboard star for a wandering light bulb from the Christmas tree which worked perfectly because we set our Bethlehem story up under the tree.

I've always wished I had a nativity like that.
I've kept my eye out for one over the years but have never been in the right place at the right time.
Until yesterday.
And there it was.
It seemed too good to be true.
Surely pieces would be missing or damaged.
I hastened home.
I placed the box gently on my dining table.
I unstretched the elastic bands.
I eased off the tape.
Both kinds.
I lifted the lid.
Oh goodness.
There it was.
It looked pristine, the colors fresh and bright.
Reverently, I removed piece after piece after piece after... wait...
what?
Was it possible?
Yes.
Yes, there were two sets. Two complete sets.
Well, not quite complete. One set was missing the star and one stand-up litho'd piece, a problem easily solved with a color photocopier I bet.
Oh little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie.
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.

knee deep

Into town I went.
I had some returns to take care of.
So did everyone else.
We stood in long lines together.
At one point, it felt like my life was in danger.
You know that feeling don't you?
A long line forms.
Faces are surly.
Feet shuffle.
There is a distant murmur like a herd of cattle on the brink of stampeding.

The clerks were all amazingly bonnie and blithe.
They deserved medals, every one of them.

The outward trimmings of Christmas still cling everywhere.
Christmas at seventy-five percent off.
Clean up in aisle six.
Customer service on red alert.

It reminds me of standing in the middle of a living room after the birthday party guests have gone home clutching their goody bags.
It reminds me of a reception hall after the wedding party have dashed off through a hail of rice.
It is apparent that something 'big' has transpired, something celebratory.
We are knee deep in the afterness of it.
The distance of time will soon arrange my memories, like cookies on a platter.

one true light

We are drawn to love like moths to the light. And Light is just what this dark wintery world craves.
There is plenty of it all around us; reflections of the love of the one true Light. Christmas blessings to you all.