The Night Before Christmas

Children carry through the streets
A brilliant painted star.
Angels gather round the hearth
Strumming on guitars.
Men of great renown & faith
Say prayers on boulevards.
It's the night before Christmas.

But you don't have to be an angel
To sing harmony.
You don't have to be a child
To love the mystery.
And you don't have to be a wise man
On bended knee.
The heart of this Christmas is in you and me.

- Carly Simon

Christmas Miracles, Christmas Tears

Christmas is a time for miracles.


And there are few miracles as real & tangible as the birth of a child. My children are my own personal miracles, and I treasure them (along with my marriage to Bryson) more than anything on Earth. This past month I have been doing a lot of reflecting on the miracles that children bring into our lives.

I have some dear friends that have been through an emotional roller coaster as they anticipated the birth of their 5th child, a little boy. At the 20th week of pregnancy, the doctors noticed some abnormalities. There was an incredible excess of amniotic fluid. A subsequent ultrasound discovered a major heart defect that can be indicative of Down's syndrome, a mesoblastic nephroma (benign tumor) around the right kidney, and -- as if that weren't enough -- some fluid around the base of the spine, a common sign of spina bifida.

Needless to say, there were a lot of prayers said on their behalf.

As the birth approached, the family prepared for a long hospital stay, and possibly the immediate surgery of their little newborn. And just a couple short weeks ago, little Levi was born. A little miracle in every sense of the word. There was no Down's syndrome. MRI's done shortly after birth showed no signs of the kidney tumor or spinal problem-- positively baffling the doctors. There is still a heart defect, but it is something that can be addressed as the baby gets older. Only a few short days after his birth, he is home with his loving parents and four older siblings. Again, a miracle.


This announcement was still elating my heart when I heard some more tragic, heartbreaking news.

Just a few days ago some other close friends of ours lost one of their precious twin baby girls -- little Mhairi -- to SIDS. It was so sudden, so shocking. And there were so many questions racing through my mind.

Why?
Why should one child be blessed while another is taken?

At the funeral yesterday, I was a complete mess during the service. The tears came down my face in an endless stream as I wept for my friends' loss. And I marveled at their strength. They spoke of faith and God's will as they cradled their surviving daughter, only 3 months old. They believe that Mhairi was taken because she was too perfect for this world, and that she will watch over them as a Guardian Angel. And I believe them, too.

Families are forever. That is what we believe, as Latter-Day Saints. We teach that the bonds of familial love go beyond the grave and that we will live together eternally with our Father in Heaven if we strive to live worthily. It is wonderful, comforting doctrine. And right now I find it even more so. It speaks to my soul.

While the storm may rage around us as we make our way through this life, we have hope. We have love. We have peace.
We have each other.

And so this Christmas, I find myself holding my own little miracles a little tighter. I am so grateful for the light they bring to my life. And while I pray for continued blessings on behalf of both Levi & Mhairi's families, I also pray that I can always remember to cherish my family as the singular treasure in my life.

Today in the car-- as reality was over-taking us-- I started singing in an effort to put the fighting, screaming, crying... you know, the usual-- to an end. I paused, and Reilly asked if we could sing "Families." This is her title for a song we often sing in the children's Sunday School. Her little voice rang out:

I always want to be with my own family
And the Lord has shown me how I can.
The Lord has shown me how I can.
As she finished, I luxuriated in the peaceful warmth that followed.
Bryson remarked, "I am so glad we believe what we believe."
I couldn't agree more.

Born in a Manger

I have the precious opportunity to spend my Sundays with a very special group of people. You see, I am the Nursery Coordinator for my church congregation-- which means for two hours every Sunday I get to sing, play, and learn from the children in the 18-36 month old Sunday School classes.

Today it was Abby's turn to teach me.

Over the past few weeks, I have been teaching the children a new song for the holidays-- "Christmas Bells are Ringing." The lyrics are pretty simple, and easily learned.

Christmas bells are ringing!
Hear what they say to you:
Jesus is born in Bethlehem;
In Bethlehem.

In helping the children review the words, I asked, "Where was Jesus born?"

Little Abby responded.

"In a manger!"
"Yes, that's right! But do you remember the name of the town? It's a pretty long word..."

(furrowed brow of concentration)

"Is it Bethlehem?" I prompted.
"Yes! Bethlehem!""Very good, Abby!" I exclaimed.

But she wasn't quite finished.

"Yes, at Bethlehem. And there was no room for Him. No room. For Joseph and Mary. But they could go to the manger. And Jesus was born in a manger. And that's Christmas! It's Jesus' birthday! The baby Jesus was born in the manger. And I love Christmas," she finished fervently.
"I love Christmas too-- it's a very special time of year, " I agreed. "Shall we sing our new Christmas song all together?"

The children nodded. With jingle bells in hand, we began to sing. And no one sang louder than Abby.

There is nothing like the faith of a child. ♥

Dinger Bells

Taylor: (singing) Dinger Bells, Dinger Bells... Dinger all the waaaay....

Me: Taylor, it's actually Jingle Bells-- not Dinger.

Taylor: That's what I said-- Dinger.

Me: No... not Dinger, Jingle. With a "J." Jah... jah... jingle.

Taylor: Mom, it's not Jingle. Bells "ding," not "jing!"


Can't argue with that logic.

O Christmas Tree

The tree is up.

The ornaments are hung.

(Except when they're not...)

The lights are lit.

Everything is quiet.

How lovely are thy branches.

A Holly Jolly Road Rage

Due to the white-out conditions on the roads this morning, Bryson decided to stay put in the office today instead of driving up the canyon. Which, of course, made me happy for two reasons-- One: I didn't have to spend the entire day having visions of his untimely demise by driving in said ridiculous conditions, and Two: The kids and I were able to share his lunch hour with him-- something we enjoy but rarely have opportunity to do.

We were able to meet at a nice little cafe where Bryson & I enjoyed some yummy panini while the kids noshed on a cheese quesadilla. Afterward, I decided to dash into a nearby store and pick up some baking pans that I had noticed were on sale. Bryson followed me over and sat with Taylor & Reilly so I didn't have to do the kid-wrestling-tango that always ensues. I was in and out, with nary a holiday shopping headache! The cashiers were friendly, the patrons were patient, the Salvation Army bell ringer cheery & gracious. Ahhhh, I thought. So nice to have a positive experience this time of year. After loading the wares into the car and kissing Bryson goodbye we parted ways. He drove off in his truck, the kiddos & I in the SUV. The skies cleared, the sun came out. Life was good.

Then as I turned out of the parking lot on to a minor side road the warm fuzzies began to dissipate. I suddenly heard a car horn being laid on thick. Confused, I turned-- wondering what on earth was going on. A second later I saw her. A middle-aged woman driving a white pick up truck, clearly screaming her head off and using all sorts of hand gestures to get her anger across. Hmmm. Apparently, I was the problem.

Now, I am not someone you would label as an aggressive driver. Being raised near a big city, I know how to handle myself on the roads, but I am far from reckless. When I turned out of the parking lot today, this lady was not near me. Which leads me to one of two conclusions. One: That she was driving way too fast for this little road and I failed to notice, or Two: That she just was having a bad day and thought for some reason I slighted her somehow by turning in front of her. Either way-- even if I was in the wrong-- there was absolutely no intention on my part in offending her. And her reaction was clearly over-the-top. Even if I did slow her down for the briefest of moments, she more than quadrupled that time when she decided to slow down and give me a piece of her mind-- even stopping at a green light while I waited to turn left so she could drive the point home!

"Geez Louise," I thought. "What kind of person allows themselves to hang on to so much anger?"

I thought about that the whole way home. It's a good question. Life is so short. Who has time to send that kind of negative energy out into the world?

I really kinda felt bad for this lady.
I mean, c'mon, it's Christmas!
Perhaps she didn't get the memo about peace on earth & goodwill toward men.

As I continued homeward, I decided I needed to let the negativity go. She may have made the decision to send that anger my way, but it didn't mean I had to hold on to it.
"May you be well," I said under my breath as my exit approached.

And I hope she is.

Because, really, no one should harbor such ill feelings this or any time of year. We're all just driving to our own destinations in life... Where is the sense in sowing seeds of hate? It's just not worth it.

Morning Meditation

Honestly.

Could anything make you
feel more alive
than waking up to
this?

Heaven & nature sing, indeed.