The Sunset

Around five in the evening on Sunday, I happened to look across the kitchen to our sliding glass door-- which was perfectly framing a magnificent sunset.

"Reilly," I called as she sat playing at the kitchen table, "look at that pretty sunset!"

She turned and approached the glass, marveling at all the colors.

Look, Mom! There's pink and orange and blue... and a little purple too.

Her eyes were wide with wonder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded. Then turned back to the table and proceeded to document the moment in bold Crayola strokes. The silhouette of a mountain, embraced by a breathtaking riot of color.

Handing it to me with both hands, she smiled at me sweetly.

Here, Mom, this is for you.  

And she turned back to the glass to admire the sky once more.

I stood, watching her.
Her silhouette now being embraced by those same colors she had replicated with her best six-year-old effort.

My sweet little first grader.

And the tears, they come again, as I think of a town where the sun has already set.
A town where several parents no longer have little first grade silhouettes, no six-year-old giggles outlining their evenings.
A silent night.

I have shed a lot of tears for Newtown, Connecticut.
I imagine that there will be many more still to come.
My breath catches and my heart stops every time I let the emotion of those twenty-six victims at Sandy Hook Elementary wash over me.

The parents in anguish, the frightened children, the grieving community.
No. Not community-- nation. Aren't we all grieving alongside one another?
The pain has been intense.

Yet even in despair, there can be peace. I have felt it wrap around me and comfort my soul several times over the last few days, as the God who weeps (see John 11) succors His children.

I find strength in all of the good people that are still out there in the world, giving themselves to the service of others.

"The helpers," as Fred Rogers called them:

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.

To this day, especially in times of "disaster," I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers-- so many caring people in this world.

This is what I tried to teach my children this week as I held them a little tighter, a little longer.
There may be terrible evil in this world, but guess what? In the big picture, love wins. Every time.

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.
God bless Newtown.
God bless us all.

In Their Shoes

Trying on Daddy's Shoes

A few months ago, our amazing Stake President (similar to a Catholic Bishop) had what I thought was a brilliant idea. He wanted the men of each congregation to learn more about the divine purpose of the Relief Society in particular and women in general, and so decided that last month each Relief Society President would teach the 4th Sunday lesson to priesthood brethren from Sister Julie B. Beck's talk from the April General Conference of the Church. A sister, teaching with authority to the brethren. Pretty awesome.

The flip side to this was that a brother from the High Priests' Group would teach the Relief Society sisters from Elder David A. Bednar's talk from the priesthood session of the same conference. This also had the potential to be really great, but in our own congregation it had mixed results. The older brother who taught-- whom I quite like, personally-- was obviously a bit flustered to be speaking to a room full of women. Some of his wording choices and phraseology ended up being a bit unfortunate.

Complicating things was the fact that I was sitting next to a lady who has been investigating our faith, and has really been through the ringer when it comes to life in general and men specifically. I could sense her unease growing as the discussion touched on topics of patriarchal ordination, without much thought as to how the matriarchy of the church fits into the picture. Toward the end of the hour I tried adding some of my own personal thoughts to the conversation, but I sense it may have been too little too late. She was extremely frustrated with the way he had seemingly sidelined the women of the Church in his lesson-- although I am certain that this was not at all his intent. Having been wronged by the men in her life, it was yet one more experience that seemed to confirm in her mind that men and women would never be equals-- at least in the minds of men.

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about my experience growing up in an environment where I knew without a doubt that I was valued just as much as my brother, and that men and women were absolute equals in God's eyes. As a result, this has translated to my having a very happy and fulfilling marriage to a man who feels exactly the same way. Our marriage is truly a loving partnership, in every sense of the word. Although he holds the priesthood and I do not, I have never felt a sense that I am somehow "less than." (Which is not to say that there haven't been questions I've wrestled with when it comes to the culture and certain aspects of church history, but I feel I have found answers and made peace with a lot of it.) After all, does not the culmination of the highest blessings of the priesthood require both a man and a woman kneeling together across a sacred altar in the holy temple of God? For Latter-Day Saints at least, the answer to that question is a resounding yes.

That said, I have a lot of empathy for those women in the church who have not had this same experience. I think it is a tragedy, to be perfectly honest. Because certainly if there is one thing we can learn from our Savior, it is of His love and compassion for all men and women. Reading through the New Testament, I cannot help but be impressed by His treatment of women in particular: His first miracle, performed as a service for His mother (John 2); His treatment of the woman taken in adultery (John 8); the woman with the issue of blood (Luke 8:43-48); the sinful woman who washed and annointed His feet (Luke 7:36-50). And this is only scratching the surface. Elder James E. Talmage perhaps said it best, "The world's greatest champion of woman and womanhood is Jesus the Christ." (see Jesus the Christ, 3rd ed. (1916), 475)

This week, there is quite a buzz here in Utah over certain Mormon feminists rallying to wear pants to church on Sunday as a sign of solidarity. Honestly, not having grown up in the culture here in Utah, I had no idea that wearing something other than a skirt to church was something so very scandalous. All that really mattered in my home ward was that you wore your "Sunday best" as a sign of respect to God, whatever that might be. One of my high school English teachers was baptized into our faith in the mid-90's, and she would often wear very nice pant suits to church. It never made me bat an eye. Maybe that was just me, though. I loved it! And I will never believe that a lovely tailored suit is somehow less respectful than the casual denim skirts we often wore as young women just because the fabric involved seams on both sides of each leg.

The outcry over this "event" (on both sides) has really startled me, however. I mean, really? We're getting all bent out of shape over pants? Whatever happened to "the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart"? (1 Samuel 16:7)

Where are our hearts? I think that's the real issue here. What does the Gospel teach us? The real, true, core doctine of Christ. Not the varying quirks of our culture. Where are we coming from? A place of love and a desire to further understanding, or anger and contention? It goes both ways, for both sides of the coin.

Personally, I will be wearing a skirt to church on Sunday, but that's simply because I want to. Not because I feel any sort of pressure from the culture. I actually like skirts. (Plus, I'm not sure I can squeeze my postpartum body into any of my formal pants, but that's another post entirely!) But let me tell you, if I see any of my Relief Society sisters wearing trousers in the chapel this or any other Sunday, I will happily greet them with a warm smile and hug-- just as I would do any other day of the week.

Kelsey over at Empowering LDS Women wrote a fantastic post last night about this current issue, and I highly recommend it. A small snippet:

We are meant to create "Zion" together, and we certainly can't achieve that by discrediting each others' concerns, or by assuming that if someone struggles, it's because they haven't worked hard enough on their issues. I believe increased understanding and empathy will in turn lead to improved church culture, inspire Zion-like policies, and improve our adherence to the doctrines of Christ-- tolerance, kindness, love, compassion. And then, when we're prepared, "greater light and knowledge" will surely come to us.

Amen, sister.

When it is all said and done, we are all brothers and sisters working our way through this mortal journey together. We all come from varied backgrounds and life experiences that shape the way we view the world around us. Despite this, God has asked us not to judge each other but to come together in love and unity.

Love and unity.
That seems a pretty good place to start.

Legacy

My grandpa taught me to fish.

My fondest memory of him was the time he took me to the park to learn how. I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. With all of my six-year-old bravado, I was just certain that I would catch a fish my first time out. After all, it was easy enough for Bert and Ernie, wasn't it?


But I digress.

My mom, grandma, and aunts gently tried to help me understand that catching a fish wasn't necessarily a given when going fishing per se, but I would not be dissuaded. I was going fishing, and I was going to catch a fish, of course!

Grandpa just smiled at me and said, "Yep, you're going to catch a fish all right!"

And guess what?
I totally did.

At the park, in front of some boys who had been making sport of teasing the little girl with the Dorothy Hamil haircut, a fish was caught. And the boys went home empty-handed.

My grandpa thought this was the greatest thing in the world, and never tired of retelling the story each time I came for a visit-- how I sure showed those boys a thing or two. 

As I prepared to speak at his funeral last week, I was blessed with the opportunity to learn a little more about his personal history. One of the things that stood out prominently in my mind was the way he treated the women in his life.

Even though it was pretty unusual for the time, my grandpa loved having my grandma-- his "Danni," as he used to call her-- with him while he was out hunting, fishing, camping, and even while working whenever was possible. This continued with his three daughters, who shadowed him as fields were plowed, calves were branded, gardens were planted, Christmas trees were cut for market, deer were scouted, and mechanical repairs were made. My mom recalls making truck runs with him on various errands, and when someone would ask about the little girl sitting alongside him he would explain, "Oh, that's my little boss." To which my mom would then reply, "And that's my little daddy!"

As my mom has said before, the only thing little about my grandpa was his stature. His heart was enormous. His home was open to all, and many of my mom's and aunts' friends claimed him as a second father.

He always believed we could accomplish anything we set our minds to.
Doctor? Lawyer? World-class chef? Olympic swimmer?
No doubt about it.

This past week, as I have thought about my grandpa and the loss I feel in his absence, I am profoundly grateful for having men like him and my dad in my life.

Growing up, I never felt "less than" for being a girl. I never felt that I wasn't absolutely equal in every way to the opposite sex. Not in school, not in church, not at home. My dad encouraged me daily in Chicago just as my grandpa did mainly from a distance in Phoenix. In their eyes, the world was my oyster and I could become anything of my choosing. Anything.

It wasn't until I was much older and living away from home that I became aware that not everyone shared this same background. I was horrified to discover that some girls seemingly just like me, grew up thinking that boys were inherently better just because they were boys. Such a notion would have been categorically dismissed in my home. Even now it saddens me to read of others' experiences (such as blogger C. Jane: read her story here) that are so glaringly different from my own.

You see, if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that God loves His daughters and sons equally.
That we are equally important.
Both of infinite worth.

There has been a lot of chatter going on in the Mormon feminist world lately, and while I empathize with much of it, more than anything it makes me thankful for the upbringing I experienced in my life.

Thankful for a father, who taught his daughter that she was in every way equal to her male counterpart.
Thankful for a grandfather, who modeled this same belief in his words and actions to his wife, daughters, and granddaughters.
Thankful that because of their examples, belief in a Heavenly Father's divine love for His daughters is a complete no-brainer for me. It is simply a carry-over from what I have been taught by the mortal father figures in my life these (nearly) thirty-five years.    

While in this world there is cultural bias, ignorance, and even blatant sexism, I rest assured that in God's eyes I am eternally valued. Loved endlessly and divinely.

Just the way I am.

When Skies are Grey

Golden Sun, Setting Through a Snow Storm

On Sunday evening, Bryson, the kids and I got in the car to drive to my in-laws' home for a family dinner. It had been snowing and the skies were clouded over, obscuring the mountains, even. When we rounded the bend, however, we were treated to a magnificent sight. Through the snow storm the golden sun was setting, creating a gilded haze that seemed to embrace the entire valley below.

Had we not changed our direction, we would have completely missed this glorious display of natural beauty.

Fast forward to this morning.

Short version of the story: It did not go well.

Frazzled and stressed out, I felt like a complete failure as I lost my temper with some of my kids who apparently forgot to put their ears on when they got out of bed. Then-- because I like to walk on the wild side-- I made a grocery run with the twins and baby after dropping the older two off at school. Needless to say, by the time I was strapping them back in the car to head homeward I was in need of a time out myself. Silently, I pleaded for a little more patience. A little more grace.

In the meantime, Dani was not pleased with the way I was buckling her in and started howling at me relentlessly.

I sighed and looked at her.

YOU....
I began sternly. I wasn't sure where I was going with this.

And then I paused and took a deep breath.

...are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

I was singing? Where did this come from?

You make me happy when skies are grey.

And then Logan joined in with me with his sweet little two-year-old warble.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

Dani stopped screaming, and retreated into simply giving me the stink eye. Logan grinned at me from ear to ear. I just shook my head and chuckled to myself, my mood completely changed.

When you're a parent, there are lots of stormy days to navigate through. Sometimes it seems so bleak and clouded over that you might not even be quite sure what lies ahead.

Today I learned that in those moments sometimes the best thing to do is to stop and turn around. You never know what hidden joy you just might find.

{five things xxv}

So for this week's "five things," my blogging buddy Heather has asked us to share our five favorite Christmas decorations. In no particular order, here they are!

- one -

I love our Christmas tree. There are so many memories attached to it-- from the ornaments I bought when Bryson and I were newly married, the ones I received each year as a child, to the ones my own children have received every Christmas-- continuing the family tradition. There are gilded fruit ornaments, glass icicles resembling candy canes, and lots of shatterproof balls in red and gold. After five kids I finally wised up and stowed the glass baubles away, perhaps for a future date. We are all about the shatterproof ones now.

I have been pleasantly surprised at how good the twins have been with the tree this year. Last year we had ornaments scattered throughout the house and quickly instigated a "no ornaments on the bottom third of the tree" rule. This year Bryson has told them that they are only allowed to touch the ornaments with one finger (because, really, asking them not to touch at all is just entirely unrealistic!), and this has been working really well.

We have been reading A Christmas Carol as a family on my Kindle with only the Christmas tree lights & fireplace lighting the room at night. It has been magical.

- two -

Speaking of the fireplace, I have to include it even though it's not really a Christmas decoration. Last year when Bryson was working out of town I decided to make over our main living room. My personal splurge was purchasing this electric fireplace for the space. I grew up in a home with a large hearth and loved spending evenings listening to the crackling fire. We don't have a very big house, but this little fireplace fits very nicely in our room and adds a substantial "cozy factor" to our home.

My favorite place in our entire house is curled up with a book and a mug of hot cocoa in the leather easy chair next to the fireplace. There is always a stack of books on the mantle, and at this time of year I always have a selection of some of my family's favorite Christmas stories there.

Of the books, my personal favorite is an old book my grandma gave me a few Christmases ago that used to belong to her family when she was growing up. Entitled The Fireside Book of Christmas Stories, it's in surprisingly good shape for a book published in 1945! There are some wonderful tales in its pages, and it makes me smile and think of my grandma every time I see it.

 - three -

I love that my nativity set is the first thing that greets us when we enter our front door. We have quite a few little nativities scattered throughout the house, but you cannot go anywhere in our house without passing this one repeatedly-- all day long. It is our constant reminder of the Reason for the Christmas season. Sitting on our antique piano directly across from our entryway, I hand glazed it when I was a teenager for a church youth group project. It is always the first thing I put out every year when I start the Christmas decorating. It has held up remarkably well, with only one minor casualty when a stocking holder fell off our half wall last year, cracking one of the camel's noses. Thanks to Bryson's mad super-gluing skills, it is scarcely noticeable from a distance. You will also notice in the picture below that we have now given up stocking holders. :) 

- four -

On the half wall above the piano & nativity set are our stockings. This year I couldn't believe how many of them there were!!! They aren't handmade, but they have special meaning to me regardless. When we were first married, Bryson and I spent Christmas with my parents and they had the first stocking shown in the picture above made just for Bryson. Ever since, I have had stockings made for each of our children by the same company, and decided to get one for myself as well since my old one (which my beloved great-aunt made for me) was quite a bit bigger. That one usually hangs in my bedroom with Bryson's childhood stocking. This year I simplified a bit since we have a newborn in the house, so sadly they are still in storage. But seeing all of these hanging in a row makes me smile. With all the difficulties I have had over the years in conceiving, difficult pregnancies, and complicated postpartum issues, I never thought I would have so many to adorn our living space. Blessings, each one.

- five -

Rounding out my top 5 is the ginormous poinsettia we receive from Bryson's work each year. Seriously, you can't tell from the photograph but this thing is HUGE. It sits on the floor in our basement and hits me at my waist. That's how tall it is.

Every year when the florist drops it off on our doorstep I have a huge giggle over it. Before we finished our basement we literally had no idea where to put it. Bryson jokingly refers to it as our second Christmas tree. It's really not too much of an exaggeration.

It is beautiful, though, and we certainly love having it in our home this time of year.

• • •

Those are my five things for the week! Hop on by Heather's blog to see her five favorites, and feel free to share your own as well!

Warm wishes for the second week of Advent from our family to yours!

♥

That Which Endures

At the Ragnar Wasatch Back finish line in 2009

I've been thinking a lot about endurance this year.

You see, to be completely honest it's been a pretty tough 52 weeks for me and my family. If I were to put it in athletic terms, I'd call it a "building period."

We've been stretching. Growing.
Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually.

It hasn't been entirely pleasant all the time. In fact, some days have been almost comical in the way Murphy's law continually played out right in front of my eyes.

I've laughed a lot. I've cried a lot.
I've even done both at the same time! A lot!

But truly, despite the struggle of some days, it has been a wonderful year. There is much to be thankful for, even in the hardest moments.

In scripture, we read frequently about "enduring to the end."

Behold, we count them happy which endure. (James 5:11)

Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days. (D&C 24:8)

In our culture, it seems that we typically interpret this phrase "endure to the end" as one of those necessary evils of life. A drudgery, akin to slaving away in a chain gang ripped out of a Carson McCullers novella. 'Endure' is synonymous with pain, difficulty. Just thinking about it makes people tired.

Coming from an athletic background, this take has always intrigued me a little.

I swam competitively for over ten years, and coached for many, many more afterward. Being that I am decidedly short and curvy, I myself have never been praised for my natural sprinting abilities. I simply don't have the physical attributes necessary to succeed against a competitive field of Missy Franklin look-alikes. But the endurance events, ah! That's where I finally was able to find my niche.

Which leads me to this important thought:

In athletics, endurance is not a bad thing.  
To the contrary, it is something to strive for.

Jarom running his 135 mile ultra through the mountains of Brazil

To illustrate, Bryson and I have a crazy friend named Jarom. (And he knows that I say that with the greatest degree of affection!)

He is a professional ultra-marathoner.

His every-day training runs are distances that I have to train for months on end just to have a prayer at even finishing!

When I think of endurance, I think of Jarom. In my head, he is endurance incarnate.

But here's the thing. Even though he has seemingly super-human stamina, he doesn't just sit on his laurels looking down at us peasants. I suppose he could, but he doesn't! Instead, he uses his abilities, his hard-earned endurance level to help those around him.

Pacing runners at local marathons that are trying to set personal records.
Teaching children in local public schools.
Helping former addicts turn their lives around by working with Addict II Athlete, a group that helps individuals substitute a healthy physical habit for their previous self-destructing one. 

Look what endurance can accomplish.

Albert Einstein once said, "In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity."
Opportunity for growth. Opportunity to serve. Opportunity to lift.

Is it tough? ABSOLUTELY.

Anyone who has trained for a distance that seemed ridiculously impossible can tell you of the challenge in meeting their goal. But with continued discipline and a fixed determination, gradually the training becomes easier. Why? Because our fitness level has risen up to meet the challenge. The end goal becomes closer, and increasingly more realistic.

Maybe life is a little like that too.

Wasatch Back - 2009

After all, if muscle needs to be broken down by the tiny micro-fissures that result from proper training in order to be built back stronger, then perhaps it is not such a far-off conclusion that our spirits grow best in a similar manner.

What would happen if we thought of difficult times as building years? What if we approached the dark and desolate days as opportunities for trusting in our ultimate Coach and continued forward in faith to increase our endurance?

How much spiritual strength could be gained?
And how might we be able to then turn around and serve those around us?

As I look back on the events of this year, I realize how much I have grown. Oh, I am still a big huge mess most days, but slowly God is polishing some of this roughness away. And if there's one thing He has taught me these last couple of months it is that I am stronger than I have dared to realize and that through Him nothing is impossible.

 Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward... and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life. (2 Ne. 31:20)

And so I plod along the path as best I can, running "with patience the race that is set before us." (Hebrews 12:1)

All the while, this anthem plays on repeat inside my heart:

 
Take my life, take all that I am.
Take my heart, take all that I have.

It's just a building year, nothing to be afraid of.

His grace is always sufficient. Like an avalanche.
So, come along.
Let's do it together.

Let's Try This Again...

Right now I am laughing at myself because I just looked at the calendar and realized that Advent, in fact, starts tomorrow. Not last Sunday.

I am awesome.

In all honesty though, I am breathing a sigh of relief. I just found an "extra week"  I didn't think I had! An unexpected opportunity to take a deep breath, reboot, and try again. After the stress of the last week, I'd say I could use a little more of that.

Grace? Yes, please.
Pour it on.

Aren't second chances wonderful?
Taylor certainly agrees with me.

Last Monday, our attempt at Family Home Evening was an epic FAIL.
We ended up sending everyone to bed early due to poor behavior and had it the following night instead.

As I was wallowing in my frustration a bit, there was a sudden tap on my shoulder.
There was Taylor, paper in hand, morose expression pleading forgiveness.

(Translated)
I'm sorry, Mom for the bad choices I have been making. I'll be better tomorrow. I love you and for now on I will be the best I can be; signed Taylor

I love that boy.

It also struck me how similar his note was to so many prayers I have offered in my lifetime.
Aren't so many of us just trying to be the best we can be and falling short daily? But as long as we keep picking ourselves up and continuing that upward trajectory, I have faith that eventually everything will turn out all right.

And if we're really lucky, we might just find ourselves an extra week to start over with.
Here's to the reboot.

Cheers!

A Contemplative Christmas Playlist

To be totally honest, I was a little blown away by the response I received to my Thanksgiving playlist a few weeks back. For someone who doesn't even list her blog with search engines, I was taken a little off guard by the traffic flowing to my little corner of the web via Pinterest. So to those of you who enjoyed that post, I am really happy that I was able to do a little something to help make Thanksgiving more contemplative. And many thanks to my blogging buddy Montserrat over at Chocolate on my Cranium, who has shared my enthusiasm for creating a more meaningful Thanksgiving holiday season.

In that same vein, I thought I'd share my Christmas playlist that I've had playing regularly in our home this week. Similarly to my Thanksgiving tracks, I wanted a playlist that would center my thoughts on the Source of our celebration. So if you listen to these songs, you will quickly discover that there are no Santa references, no jingle bells, none of that type of stuff. Not that I don't love sleigh rides, mistletoe, snowmen, and all the other wonderful, fun traditions of this time of year. I do! And I have a library of music with hours upon hours with all those wonderful, traditional, more secular carols that I listen to regularly. You probably do, too.

But that's not what this particular playlist is about.

So here are 55 contemporary, mostly Christ-centered songs (and certainly more to come...), totaling well over 3 hours of listening pleasure that have made a difference in how I have approached the beginning of Advent and the Christmas season. Bear in mind that as it is my playlist, it does cater specifically to my musical tastes-- which lean more toward the indie & folk genres. So apologies if that's really not your thing. Of these 55 tracks, there is only one true repeat song. I couldn't decide which version of "O Holy Night" I preferred-- Shane & Shane's rollicking uptempo take of the beloved hymn (I know, but it works, trust me) or Shawn McDonald's more traditional acoustic version-- so I included both. 

I hope you enjoy.
Have a blessed Christmas season!

(If you are reading this post on an RSS feed reader, please be aware that there is a widget link to my Spotify playlist on my site which will allow you to listen to the entire playlist for free.)

• • •

And here is the track list:

1. Maybe This Christmas - Leigh Nash

2. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel - Bethany Dillon

3. A Baby Will Come - Emilee Cook

4. Come Thou Long Expected Jesus - Daniel Renstrom

5. We Will Find Our Hope - The Brilliance

6. Carol of the Bells / God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - The Piano Guys

7. O Holy Night - Shane & Shane

8. The Night Before Christmas - Brandon Heath

9. Come and Worship - Bebo Norman

10. O Come All Ye Faithful - Mindy Gledhill

11. Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella - Beth Whitney

12. Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring - Steven Sharp Nelson ft. Paul Cardall

13. Angels We Have Heard on High (Acoustic Version) - Chris Tomlin

14. Do You Hear What I Hear? - Nichole Nordeman

15. Breath of Heaven (Mary's Song) - Sara Groves

16. Asleep in the Hay - Jonny Diaz

17. Once in Royal David's City - Sufjan Stevens

18. Winter Snow - Chris Tomlin ft. Audrey Assad

19. In the Bleak Midwinter - Steven Curtis Chapman

20. Better Days - Matt Brouwer

21. I Saw Three Ships / Pat-a-Pan - Michele McLaughlin

22. Away in a Manger - Mindy Smith

23. Joseph's Lullaby - MercyMe

24. You're Here - Francesca Battistelli

25. The First Noel - Phil Wickham

26. Far, Far Away on Judea's Plains - Nancy Hanson

27. Baby Boy - for King & Country

28. Go Tell it on the Mountain - Tenth Avenue North

29. It Came Upon the Midnight Clear - Jars of Clay

30. Peace Peace - Sara Groves

31. Christmastide - The Brilliance

32. Love Came Down at Christmas - Shawn Colvin

33. Hallelujah the Lord Has Come - Jadon Lavik

34. I Wonder as I Wander - Will Ackerman with David Cullen

35. Coventry Carol - Point of Grace

36. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Act of Congress

37. Holy, Holy, Holy - Sufjan Stevens

38. I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day - MercyMe

39. What Child is This? (Greensleeves) - Sarah McLachlan

40. Still, Still, Still - Kirby Heyborne

41. Stars Were Gleaming - Nancy Hanson

42. Joy to the World - Bebo Norman

43. Come Let Us Adore Him - Savannah Ellis

44. Hark the Herald Angels Sing - Daniel Renstrom

45. Jesus is Alive - Josh Wilson

46. The Holly and the Ivy - George Winston

47. Mary, Did You Know? - Ali Matthews

48. O Holy Night - Shawn McDonald

49. We Three Kings - Steven Curtis Chapman

50. Babe in the Straw - Caedmon's Call

51. O Little Town of Bethlehem - FFH

52. Redemption Song - MIKESCHAIR

53. Someday at Christmas - Jack Johnson

54. Silent Night - Shane & Shane

55. It's True - Sara Groves ft. Toby Groves

♥