Christmas is Coming

Today I want to be here, in a glitter-roofed, church-turned-cottage with a pink gingham fence and one lonely tree. From my church-turned-cottage, tucked deep inside a countryside of silver-blue quilted hills and gingerbread-smelling dales, I'll be bundled 'neath fluffy white covers, watching snow fall to the ground. And just before I go to sleep, as the winter fire slowly dies, I'll hear it whispered in the candy cane wind: Christmas is coming. Christmas is coming.

When I awake, I'll wander the silver-blue quilted hills with my puppy, Sugar Plum. When our noses turn pink, we'll scamper home for wide mugs of hot chocolate with fluffy marshmallows topped with sprinkles and cream. After warming our feet by the fire, Sugar Plum will nap as I spin pink and white candy canes from lumps of glittered sugar. And while I work, over the sounds of boiling candy and warm, puppy sighs, I'll softly hum and gently sing: Christmas is coming... Christmas is coming...

As the sun yawns and begins droop, Sugar Plum and I will climb the wooden stairs to the church-turned-cottage's Tower of Christmas. There, amidst boxes and bows, we'll find twinkle lights and lolly pops and shiny, ribboned balls. Together we'll trudge down the stairs, climb high atop our candy cane ladder, and trim our lonely tree. And as darkness falls over the silver-blue quilted hills and gingerbread-smelling dales, the twinkling tree and shiny, ribboned ornaments will sweetly bear the sign: Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming!

And soon it will be dark again... the starry, childhood kind of dark that has you lighting long, twisty candles in each window and settling deep, deep into a ragged, old chair. And as the stars shine down and the Christmas moon watches, Sugar Plum and I will sit here - here in our glitter-roofed, candles-in-the-windows, church-turned-cottage, and fill our Christmas stockings and say our Christmas prayers.

You can come too, you know, to the hill and dale countryside and its church-turned-cottage with a pink gingham fence and one lonely tree. Sugar Plum and I have your mug and bed and candle and chair by the fire right here. But please do hurry....

...Christmas is coming. Christmas is coming!

#ChristmasCares

Many of you responded to the last post with words I didn't expect. Truly. I've gotten emails and messages through Facebook and, with different voices, we all said the same thing: this Christmas is different, somehow.

I was thinking about it last night as I got up from the piano and stood in the middle of the front room and stared at the (still half undecorated) tree. Usually I have presents piled underneath it by this time in the season. But this year, on December 10, I can still see the Christmas tree skirt. And then it hit me: many of us are spending our days in the silent company of loss this Christmas. Just raw, consuming loss. 

It's true. Some are grieving the loss of someone they dearly loved who is now painfully absent from holiday activities and plans. Stockings are missing. A chair will be empty. A holiday will never again be the same... Some are mourning the loss of a job, a career, a sense of stability. Meals will get skipped. Parties and trips will be put off or avoided. Presents won't be exchanged. (There's just no money.)... Others are mourning the loss of a future they were once confident in. A country that held promise and opportunity. Now, the world is unraveling, and there's talk of dreadful, unspeakable things on the horizon... And still others are suffering through a loss of health and wellness. They'll be there, sure, but their family won't know- they can't let the children/grandchildren see- the agony they feel in their bones. The worry of whether this will be their last Christmas. The fear and grief of knowing time is running out and their days are numbered.

Loss is everywhere this Christmas. We're seeing it on each other's faces and feeling it in our own hearts. Times have changed. Life is different.

But oh, grieving and desperate hearts, Hope is coming, and soon we will see Him with our very own eyes.

Because of Jesus- my Hope whose birth was declared by a star... my Hope whose body hung on a tree- I have assurance that this life will one day be nothing more than a memory. I have hope that one day every tear will be wiped away, and there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. I am convinced that whatever loss we suffer here we'll someday see with perspective and understanding. I believe we'll be the first to admit these days were "light, momentary afflictions". (Can  you imagine? A day when your heart will be so full- and so joyful- that you'll say that without reserve?)

This year, I dragged in the biggest Christmas tree I could find. And I'm decorating it with all the stars I had and can make. Not because I feel merry and holly and jolly this Christmas. I don't. Not amid all the suffering and fear and loss. I did it because this year, because of Calvary's tree, I have hope. I did it because, just as it did 2,000 years ago, a "star" unthinkably appeared in the skies again, declaring that a King is alive and Hope is on its way.

In light of all this- the afflictions... the star... the Hope that this season declares, I'm doing something new this Christmas. I'm wrapping a box of "Christmas cares"- concerns and prayers and griefs and hopes- and putting I'm it at the foot of the tree. The Bible invites us to cast our cares on God, after all, so I'm wrapping them up for Him. And all season long, I'm going to let my cares sit there, at the foot of the tree, underneath the light and the stars, and I'm going to rest in the knowledge that we, too, are secure in the same place- between the cross of Jesus and His glorious coming. Between the gift of His love and the joy of His presence. Between the darkness of death and the light of life.

Wrap your cares, too, if you want. Wrap up a memory. A picture. A letter. A list. Put your concerns or prayers or grief or hopes in a box and wrap them up for Him. And then put it under your tree if you have one... or near a candle if you don't. Take a picture, if you want, of your Christmas cares, and comment here. Or post it online and hashtag it #Christmascares. Together, our silent cares might encourage each other and tell of our assurance in Christ, our reason for celebrating in such a time as this, and our hope that He's coming again to make everything right. Together we can celebrate Christmas this year with tears in our eyes, longing in our souls, and hope in our hearts.

I wish you a Hopeful Christmas this year. -Brin

God's Peculiar Light

I live and love in God's peculiar light.

Michelangelo

It was a Christmas of light and hope. All week long, I lived and loved in God's peculiar light.

Christmas Eve. I was at my childhood home, waiting for two of my college-aged brothers (I have three) to get home. One was rushing home from a catering job he had worked. The other? Where was Sam? We needed to hurry and pile in the car and take off for our grandmother's house, where we were to spend Christmas morning with family. Soon Sam pulled up. He came through the door calling my name.

Come and see, he said, grinning and breathless.

We walked together to his car, where Sam opened the back door to reveal box after box of shoes. Bag after bag of socks. I gasped.

It's for your shoe drive, he said simply.

But Sam had already given five pairs of shoes for my Shoes for Orphan Souls campaign. He did it to help reach my goal of 250 pairs of shoes by Valentine's Day, which is a lofty goal in my tiny, economically-depressed community.

Sam! You shouldn't have done this. You've already done more than enough! I told him.

I didn't, he replied.

Turns out they were from Tony, a man who works at the small hardware store with my brother. Sam explained that Mr. Tony doesn't have a car... doesn't have much, really... but is the happiest, most cheerful man Sam's ever met. He lives alone and makes his house payment, gas bill and buys food, my brother explained. But sometimes Tony doesn't have the money to keep his water on. You'd never know it, though. According to Tony, he's blessed beyond measure.

So how did he buy all these shoes? I asked. Mr. Tony, it turns out, won a raffle he entered at the hardware store a few weeks ago. His prize was a $100 gift card to WalMart. As Mr. Tony was getting dressed Christmas Eve morning, he pulled a pair of socks from his drawer and remembered a long-ago Christmas. He told my brother that he recalled, as a child, getting a new pair of shoes and socks for Christmas. It was all my mother could afford, Tony told him. She'd saved a dollar to buy each of us something that year. I got brand new shoes. I loved those shoes.

So Tony knew what he would do. He walked to the hardware store on Christmas Eve and gave my brother that entire gift card, instructing him to hurry to WalMart and buy all the socks and shoes he could.

I cried. And as Sam and I transferred the shoes and socks into my car, we decided: we had to do something wonderful for Mr. Tony. Right then. Before we left for Christmas at our grandmother's.

We didn't have much. Sam makes hourly wages at the hardware store and I've been out of work since early November. What could we do for Mr. Tony? We were still trying to decide when my other brother burst through the front door with an enormous cardboard box. Help me, Smitty! he yelled. Sam winked at me then reclined back in our father's armchair and yawned loudly. The box, then, was dumped in his lap. (Brothers.) Sam groaned. The box was weighed down with leftover gourmet food from that catering job: turkey, beef tenderloin, salads, dips, breads, candies, sweets and a sweet potato pie. There's no room in the fridge, Sam told our brother. Then he looked at me. We grinned at each other.

We took the box, along with a tin of homemade fudge, to Mr. Tony's. His house was rundown. Shabby. We knocked on the door but Mr. Tony didn't answer. Fearing dogs and cats would tear into the box, we eased open his front door and put the food just inside. The house was well-kept, but cold and dark. A lonely couch and a space heater sat against one wall. That was it. No TV, no lamps, no tables or pictures or Christmas tree or strands of lights or presents or anything. Just a couch and a rickety heater.

And he gave his Christmas to us for the orphans, I said. The three of us looked at each other. Then quietly, Sam backed out of the drive and turned on Christmas music. In the backseat, I tried to blink away tears.

We live and love in God's peculiar light.

Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;

you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

... And if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry

and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,

then your light will rise in the darkness,

and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;

he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land.

-Isaiah 58:9, 10

Absences and the Wistful Christmas

Finally! Er... hello, you! Anyone out there? Please allow me to apologize profusely for my absence. Blogger decided (for over a week) that I didn't exist anymore, at least until I was able to convince them to the contrary. Login credential issues are finally fixed. Blah. Okay. We're back. And just in time for Christmas!

Ah, yes. Christmas. This one feels so strange to me. Anyone else feeling that, too? It seems like it's showing up this year as if it's uninvited. It's wistful, nearly. Subdued. As if it knows it was included at the last minute, so it's going to stand in the corner and quietly sip a drink and not make eye contact. Or maybe it's just me after the year we've had. Hello, Christmas 2015. Come on in, by all means. Let me give you a hug and introduce you around and make you comfortable so you'll stay awhile longer.

In spite of this being a financially tight year for us, I'm determined to make our first Christmas at Hedge House a calm and memorable one. So yesterday I played Christmas music and sat on the front porch and clipped branches and boxwood. Piles of branches and boxwood. Then I wired them onto a 30" wreath form and ended up with a beautiful, full wreath. For around four dollars. Hello there, wistful, budget Christmas! You look beautiful.

Today I'm baking breads (pumpkin, banana and white wheat) and playing more Christmas music and finishing up a gift for my sister and gluing clothespin ornaments. (Have you seen these? I'm all about how simple and affordable they are!) I'm being forever slow with decorating this year, but plan to have it all up and clean on Friday. Then Christmas and I can sit down catch up...

...as I hope we can, too. Thanks for sticking around and being patient in my absence.

Happy Christmastime! -Brin

Happy Merry Christmas!

Ah, the eve of Christmas Eve! The bustling has gradually slowed to a rhymic shuffle around Freeman House, and I'm pleased to report that all is ready for the holiday. Wish you could be here!

Today is actually a very relaxing day, in spite of the piles of sheetrock, scaffolding, and tools that have to be maneuvered around in the front half of the house. (In addition to the huge entryway tree... see right.) Men have been working on the ol' place all week, and the hallway and sitting room off my bedroom are nearly done! Yea! Anyway, this morning I brewed hot tea, took a long, leisurely bath in the clawfoot tub, and washed sheets and towels. Oh! Reminds me... they're still fluttering on the line underneath the magnolia tree! Better grab them before it gets too dark....

...Okay. Back. So, anyway, I opened and read all my Christmas cards on my outdoor patio while the Methodist church bells downtown played Christmas carols. Friends and their beautiful children all seem to be doing well. It's funny how Christmas cards - unlike anything else, it seems - record the evolution of a life... a family. One year my college friends are sending quick, stylish, girlie cards. Six years later, the cards are simple Kodak picture cards with grinning toddlers on the front, and there are typed newsletters enclosed, too. Times change, and I'm glad.

A last minute shopping run this afternoon produced some hand-quilted stockings, a stash of classic DVDs and an old, shabby chic flour tin. Score! I rushed home to stuff, wrap and distribute to the neighbors up and down the street. My walk, accompanied by Cornbread and Okra, my neighbor's dogs, took just over an hour. In and out. Fun.

Again, too bad you're not here. Tonight is homemade dinner followed by hot chocolate and carols at the organ. I love having friends and family around! Then the plan is to watch old holiday movies until bedtime. Yea! I hope the sheetrock allows for people to make it through the house without breaking their necks... or knocking over the tree.

Speaking of the tree, I was walking by it yesterday and noticed that an ornament was moving. Oh... wait... that's no ornament. There was a real, live BIRD sitting on my Christmas tree! I screamed and screamed. The bird flew into the library and the cat shot into the dining room. I slammed both doors to the library shut, but not before retrieving Maebelline (the cat) and putting her in there with the bird. After several minutes, I expected to open the door to find Maebelline standing over a still, silent bird. Ha! I cracked the door open just enough to poke my head in to see Mae lounging on the floor and the bird perched on the scaffolding. Shoot.

I finally realized that perhaps I could open one of the ancient library windows from the outside, (I could), so I pulled Mae out of the window as if the house was on fire, and ran screeching into the yard. The bird soon followed. Whew. Close call. I almost had an Alfred Hitchcock Christmas.

(By the way, one of my presents from the neighbors today was a wine cork/sealer kit. No wonder. I'm sure with all the weird-looking things I do -pulling my cat out of a library window and run screaming into the yard- the neighbors must think I drink. A lot. )

Ooooooh boy. Anyway, all is well here, and I say all this to say that our holidays -whether break-your-neck hectic, or lovely, leisurely, and peaceful - are too often taken for granted. We are blessed - truly blessed - beyond measure, whether we recognize it or not. Praise God for His goodness and His ultimate Gift! During this blessed, long Christmas weekend, I wish you all a special time full of peace, love, safe travels, sweet dreams, and much, much happiness and joy!

Happy, Merry Christmas! -Brin

The Christmas Tour

Yum, huh?

So yeah. It's looking a lot like Christmas at Freeman House this weekend. Two Christmas trees are up and being decorated. Decking the halls has begun at Freeman House. It's all glitter and glass and tangled lights over here.

Why so early? Glad you asked. The second weekend in December brings the first Christmas Tour at Freeman House. I'm happily excited! Four rooms will be opened and decked out, and each will proudly present a signature henrybella's dessert for the tasting. There will also be a quick tour of the history of the house (given by me)... a little live piano and guitar caroling... a giveaway... and pictures with Millie, the Freeman House Christmas dog. (Ha ha.) It's going to beautiful. Tickets go on sale next week; mark your calendars.

And for those of you who won't be headed this way anytime soon, don't worry! The week before Christmas we'll be offering a virtual, online tour, complete with some of my favorite holiday recipes, my Christmas music playlist and some behind-the-scenes dish on this year's event. You won't want to miss it!

Details coming soon. Until then, I gotta go. Millie the Freeman House Christmas dog is already chewing on a pine cone wired onto the library's tree. Oh boy...

Lady Kathryn Callaway and the Christmas Glogg

Two years ago I was introduced to Kathryn Callaway. Lady Kathryn, as she's come to be known, is an older woman who grew up and later retired near here... in a Civil War era homestead that came to be known as Holly Hill. Kathryn is outspoken and formiddable and knows everything. Just ask her. (Last time I saw her, she reminded me to start smearing Crisco on my face and hands before I go to bed so I won't get "old and dried out before it's time".) Yep. I thought of Kathryn today because I was watching the movie Mrs. Dalloway and one of Virginia Woolf's characters reminded me of her.

Kathryn Callaway is quite a woman. A force, is what I'd call her. Last year when a friend and I went to visit, Kathryn ushered us into her sitting room and poured us crystal glasses of the prettiest drink I'd ever tasted. "Christmas Glogg," she said, looking me over without blinking.

I thought it was wonderful.


She sold us the recipe... for $25 each. (Isn't that right, Grace?) It bewildered me then but tickles me now. The recipe, and a jumble of other things, was photocopied with other pages and tied together with string. I adore it.

It took me a minute, but I found the pages this morning. And low and behold, according to Kathryn, it's time to make Christmas Glogg. Her directions clearly state to make "several weeks before the Holidays, or as soon as cranberries are in season." Down the page she adds, "Make a large jar at least 6 weeks before Christmas". Luckily for me, I had a bag of frozen cranberries in the freezer and a lonely bottle of gin in a dusty box. Christmas in October, here we come. Here's Kathryn's recipe, as written, only please don't tell her I shared it with you for free; she'll probably sue me or slather me in Crisco or something.

Christmas Glogg

"Chop two pounds of cranberries. Put into a pretty jar and add 1 pt. of Dry Gin [Brin's note: I assume she abbreviates "pt" to mean "part", not "pint". Regardless, add equal parts of gin and water], 1 pt. water and 6 cups sugar. Stir until sugar dissolves. Place jar in pretty location and leave to "ripen" for at least 4 to 6 weeks, stirring every few days. When ready to serve, strain out berries. Do not throw berries away; use as topping for ice cream or pound cakes. This is good, good and oh so festive."

Don't know why I felt so compelled to stir this up today, but now it's done. I guess it will be ready in time for the Freeman House Christmas Tour on December 12th and 13th.

But more on that later. For now I have to find a "pretty place" to put my jar....

Sending Wishes...

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time... as the moments at Freeman House fall in my lap like tree ornaments - golden and warm and twinkly.

A professional designer would have a heart attack/laughing-fit in my house. In Freeman House. Fancy ornaments share branches with wooden angels I bought for my very first Christmas tree. Those are still my favorite... the angels with stars over their heads. The other ornaments, while beautiful, don't hold as much meaning. But there they hang, next to golden netting...

...which actually isn't golden netting at all. It's plastic produce bags, cut in strips. You know, the kind of plastic mesh bags that hold onions at the grocery store. But that's me... and that's this house: trash and treasure sharing the same space. Even at Christmas. Those fancy pants designers can have their boring old decor and stuffy houses.

When I think of it, that's a little of how this year has shaped up: a lot of trash, a little bit of treasure. A lot of hard times, a little bit of magic. But as Christmas draws near and the year winds down, I'm left with a deep, tender appreciation for everything I do have... for everyone I hold so, so dear... and for the person God is patiently, daily creating anew in the midst of one messy, thrilling life.

And for the Christmas record: I'm thankful for you, too. I hope you know that. I hope you get up from your computer in a little while knowing that you're prayed for and counted on and loved up. Even if it's just by one girl with an angel-and-onion-bag Christmas tree in Texas...

Sending wishes of comfort and joy to you this Christmas.

Warmly,
Brin

Come, Christmas

I'm not sure about you, but this Christmas elf is ready to hang her stockings and enjoy the holiday!

I have been nonstop sewing/crafting/baking/knitting and making for a week. Hats, scarves, rose petal bath soak, herb salts, handmade soaps (like the oat and raw honey, above), cookies, breads, needlepoint gifts and photo coasters. Yesterday I had three projects working, and would toss one aside when I get stuck or frustrated or sick of looking at it, only to pick up another project and resume it. (Does anyone else do this?) But I'm beginning to see an end in sight. Everything MUST be wrapped by Christmas Eve morning, so the race is on. Oooof.

Not to be outdone, each of the three nonprofits I either run (or am an officer of) decided that this week would be a great week to meet. Do what? I feel like a magic Christmas ninja suddenly. Need an Excel treasurer's report for the beekeeper's association? Sure! Passing out 150 hats and gloves and blankets to the homeless? Absolutely! Want me to file nonprofit corp articles for a state I don't live in by Christmas? No problem. 

Come, Christmas. Come with your sit down-ed-ness and peace and hot chocolate and twinkly lights and food and... chairs. I've never needed you as badly as I do this year. Come, Christmas, come.

Wishing you rest and peace this week, friends. -Brin

At Christmas play and make good cheer,

for Christmas comes but once a year.

-Thomas Tusser

Tiny sweaters, stiched from felt scraps and embellished with thread, buttons, scrap fabric yo-yos, and string. Could anything be more simple, inexpensive, and of good cheer?


I got the idea from Sew Pretty Christmas Homestyle, a book Carla snatched out of my Amazon book shop in a Christmas Eve minute. (Thanks, Carla! Here's one of the projects I loved from the book....) The pattern for these sweaters is small and the teeny sleeves can be hard to fiddle with, but a cold winter evening under a blanket with fiddly handstitching spells ultimate comfort to me. Thus, my Small Sweater Garland was born.

Originally I'd intended to hang these individually from a small tinsel tree, but settled on stringing them from this string for now and hanging them from my dresser. (They have the string at Michael's, too.) The more I think of it, the more I think I will make enough for ornaments and a garland. Wouldn't this make a sweetly treasured heirloom for a special little girl you know? I thought so.

So I intend to add more as the month wears on: snowflake sweaters, embroidered sweaters, maybe even a polka dot sweater. Christmas time is here, after all. Time to play and make good cheer....

Handmade Christmas

You should be here this afternoon. It's about to rain and the trees are lit. Christmas music is playing and outside the wavy glass windows the wind is blowing. Cookies are in the oven and the kettle is on. And, if you get around the mile-high pile of packages awaiting the postal truck, it's somewhat cozy in here.

I've knitted so many House Helper Sets this holiday season that I'm sure I'll be sick if I have to do another. Madelyn ordered 14 sets as gifts, which I was thrilled to do. I finished her pile the week of Thanksgiving and have since been working on five others. They'll land in the Freeman House Shop tonight. After that I'm retiring from knitting. At least for a week.

This past weekend a car-load of folks and I drove to Jefferson for the annual Christmas Candlelight Tour. We stood in the cold and waited to traipse through the beautiful old homes (and one restored Civil War saloon) and get Christmas decorating ideas. I have such an enormous crush on Jefferson. If you've never been, you must. Make plans to go next year. My favorite house on this season's tour was the Sagamore, a circa 1852 home built exactly like Freeman House. (You can see it by clicking on the Tour link above.) Although the rule for all houses on the tour is natural decorations and candlelight only... no artificial or electric nonsense... the Sagamore went a step further and displayed only period decorations. There were bowls of apples and cranberries and nuts. There were stockings and pastries. There were swags of greenery and berries and pine cones. There were rag balls and a simple tree. And the candles and fires in the fireplaces were wonderful. The four of us stood huddled around the dining room fire and I felt like I was living a homespun Christmas, Charles Dickens' style. Lovely. I adored that night.

As much as I'd love a sit-and-chat, I must be off. Two enormous party trays await henrybella's brownies, cookies and truffles, and for some odd reason, the goodies won't make themselves. Ah well. It's the handmade things that are best after all. Whether we're talking knitting, decorations or food, handmade is always best. ...

Small Town Christmas Parade

There's something magical about tiny town Christmas parades. White stars twinkle over yellow street lights as sparse, friendly crowds gather.

Veterans carry our flag and their guns as they march by, proud and brave.

The high school band is a blur, tubas rounding out "Hark the Herald, Angels Sing". Mothers beam and siblings wave.


Homemade floats rumble past carrying friends with gloved hands and pink noses.

And finally, at the last, the big finish: Santa Claus. He waves and hohoho's from atop the shiny red fire truck, driven by our fearless volunteer firefighters.

And in the town square, the gazebo features a rocking chair. It awaits Santa and the squirming children who will pose for pictures in his lap while parents catch up and shake hands and eat funnel cake.

Ah, our small, happy Christmas parades. Long may they live.

(By the way, if you're planning on hitting up a Christmas parade or two, make and take a batch of our Christmas Crockpot Candy. You'll be a bigger hit than Santa. Guaranteed.)

Monday Moment: From Manger to Cross to Home

If you're a Christian, there's something powerfully sweet and deeply meaningful about this time of year. Sure, you can enjoy the Christmas lights... the sweet delights... the silent nights... but there's something about that manger - something about the Baby wrapped in swaddling clothes- that speaks to your heart and settles your soul and leaves you pining for home.

Ever noticed how Christmas - unlike any other holiday - seems to revolve around home? I mean, what do we sing? How about: I'll be home for Christmas. And: Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays. And not only do we sing about home, but we trim them, too. We invite people to them. We buy tickets and gas to get back to them. Home. Home....

It makes sense if you think about it. Christmas is a story that ultimately deals with home. It speaks of how a loving Father looked down on a lost and hopeless world and decided that He - through His precious Son - would leave His heavenly home and come here... here... to seek and to save us. And He did. After securing a stable and roping a star and calling a census, God put Mary and Joseph on a path leading away from home toward Bethlehem. A path that ultimately led baby Jesus from a manger to a ministry to a cross.

And He did it all... well, He did it all... so you and I could one day be at home with Him. And to think it all began at Christmas. The manger led to the cross, and the cross led home.

If you're a Christian, there's something powerfully sweet and deeply meaningful about home this time of year, wouldn't you say?

I must needs go home by the way of the cross,

There’s no other way but this;

I shall ne’er get sight of the gates of light,

If the way of the cross I miss.
The way of the cross leads home,

The way of the cross leads home,

It is sweet to know as I onward go,

The way of the cross leads home.

-Jessie B. Pounds, 1906

[You've probably heard about them already, but the crosses pictured in this post are the work of Texas artist Barbara Clopton and are available through her shop, Crossations. Barbara is still accepting custom orders for the holidays (I know because I just got a GORGEOUS one... and am about to order another). You can reach Barbara and view her creations by clicking here.]

Christmas Greetings

Christmas is the day 

that holds all time together.

-Alexander Smith

Merry Christmas, you. Happy, bright, cozy, warm Christmas to you.
 

This Christmas, I'm praying for joy in the midst of sorrow... hope in the midst of fear... plenty in the midst of want...

...and peace in the midst of trouble.

May the One who holds us all together keep you until we talk again. 

Love- Brin

My 10-Year-Old Self

If you spent the day with your 10-year old self, what would she (he) think of you?

That question, posed to me so innocently awhile back, hit me in the stomach. My 27-year old self paused. Hmmmm. What would I think of me? How would my 10-year old self perceive the grown-up me? Would I think I was kind? Rude? Fun? Stuffy? Smart? Idiotic?

Would I like myself?

I woke up thinking about it again today. Surely, I think, she would like my closet. I noted with satisfaction my gigantic mountain of Container Store boxes, all filled with beautiful shoes, and thought that she would be enamored with my shoe collection. Cool.

In the living room, I noted my DVD stash. Certainly there was plenty there to keep my 10-year old self spellbound. Beauty and the Beast... Charlie Brown... Little Women... Polar Express... Clue... Uptown Girls. Movies? Check!

Oh... and books. I have dozens of fun and educational children books... many from when I was ten. I know she'd love those.

In the kitchen, maybe my 10-year old self would help me make cookies. Big, beautiful snowflake cookies with sparkly sugar tops. Of course, no cookie would be complete without a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. So... okay. My 10-year old self would be thrilled with the kitchen.

But all that... it's just stuff. Just things I own. It's not really me. And the question was would she like me, not my accumulation of junk.

Huh. Okay.

I was still thinking about it when I pulled into the overcrowded, chaotic mega-mart to grab some Christmas things. Inside, I passed a swarm of kids with dried snaught on their faces. A few of us made eye contact and I wondered: Do I looked perturbed? Do I look tired? Can children tell the difference? A little girl glanced up at me. I smiled. She, after all, might have been friends with my 10-year old self.

Rounding the milk/yogurt/sour cream/juice, etc. aisle, I nearly crashed into the back of my own basket. There, in front of me, atop a throne of bright red Coca-Cola, was Santa Claus. His beard was crooked and he was impossibly young, but his cheeks were rosy and his boots were shiny, so he was Santa alright. I hesitated, then began to wheel briskly by him.

"HO, HO, HO, Merry Christmas," Santa bellowed as I walked by. I stopped.

"Merry Christmas, Santa," I said, looking Santa square in the beard.

"And what would you like for Christmas this year?" Santa asked.

"ME?" I questioned, looking around. Surely impossibly young Santa wasn't talking to me.

But he was.

I almost snickered and wheeled away. Or I could have given him a don't-you-dare-hit-on-me-Santa look, and then wheeled away. But I didn't. Instead I left my cart by the yogurt and walked up to his Coca-Cola throne.

"What do I want for Christmas?" I asked.

Santa nodded.

I almost said I wanted a wireless internet router. Or a garden cart. Or a dishwasher.

But I didn't. Instead, I heard myself whisper:

"I want to be the kind of woman my 10-year old self would be proud of."

That's the real trouble with the world,

Too many people grow up.

They forget.

They don't remember what it's like

To be ten years old.

-Walt Disney

Stable Background

I love Christmas. I love everything about Christmas. So tonight, not being able to stand any more outdated Thanksgiving cheer, I turned on some seasonal music and hauled down my Christmas boxes. I was giddy. Especially when I open the nativity box.

Last year, my Grandmother - the same one who bestowed upon me the now infamous toothpick holder - culled her Christmas collection. I was excited to get one of her nativity sets. The one I've displayed for a thousand Christmases is one I bargained for years ago in a market in Mexico. It's carved from soapstone, and baby Jesus is missing half His face. (Maebelline, my cat, abducted baby Jesus and His manger back in 2004. I freaked out for a week before finding Him under the bed. That night, I told Maebelline she'd better repent of swiping and biting Jesus or she'd have a lot to answer for. Let's hope she did.)

That aside, suffice to say that I was due a new nativity scene. Sentimental or not, you just can't display a gnawed-on baby Jesus.

So the new one went up tonight. I carefully arranged the figures atop a piece of furniture Mae never jumps on, and retired to the living room where I began watching television. Within moments, I was yawning to a show that mentioned a set of twins: one successful, one trouble. The psychologist and the host argued the whole nature versus nurture issue, and I switched the channel. Predictable stuff. I thought they'd proved long ago that we, as humans, are a product of both nature and nurture...

I walked back into the entryway and looked at my nativity. Sure was pretty. And as I stared at baby Jesus, I realized: forget nature. Forget nurture. It's all about a stable background.

Hear me out. I believe the Bible is clear that we are all born with a sin nature. "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," Romans says. Even perfectionists are a joke. We're all sinners. Me. (Especially me.) You. We all mess up. I guess that's why we all had such a fundamental, all-encompassing need for... baby Jesus. Talk about a nurturer. Sure, children with affectionate, doting parents statistically tend to grow up to be more loving, responsible adults than their ignored, neglected counterparts. But all of us, regardless of upbringing, need a Savior. A "Comforter". An ultimate nurturer...

A stable background.

I'm not sure where you started out, but it's kind of irrelevant, don't you think? I mean, all of us... you, me, everyone... has the same chance - the same access - to the Child born in that manger so many Christmases ago. We may not have had stable, nurturing backgrounds, so He offered His. God became man - was born in a stable - just so we could come to know the nurturing love He offers. I could bore you all day with my past, but the truth is, nothing really matters save the day when, as a child, I accepted Jesus as my Savior; the day I realized His stable background could become my stable future.

Yep, that nativity means a lot to me. It's the embodiment of a level playing field. It's the hope of emotionally banged-up, bruised, and hurting grown-up children everywhere. And the neat thing this Christmas? A stable background... well, it's yours for the taking, too.

Just ask that Child in the manger.

Christmas Crockpot Candy. Yes.

 Y'all. I made Christmas Crockpot Candy this weekend. Oh my. Y'all. Oh my.

Just looking at these pictures makes my mouth water. Is it time for lunch yet? I want to go home and sneak a piece now....

What are you doing tonight? I'm planning to sit in front of the tree and continue addressing Christmas cards while drinking foamy, marshmallow-y hot chocolate and chowing down on this candy. Y'all. Do yourself a Christmas favor and make this ASAP.

It's Christmastime! Can you believe it?

Whatever else be lost among the years,

Let us keep Christmas still a shining thing:

Whatever doubts assail us, or what fears,

Let us hold close one day, remembering

Its poignant meaning for the hearts of men.

Let us get back our childlike faith again.

-Grace Noll Crowell

Cookies don't tell the story, however lovingly sugared and wrapped. Presents don't either. Lights, guests, travels and carols don't even come close. The true magic of Christmas is a heart thing, a realization that sinks to your core before swirling around your heart and surging to your senses. It's knowing that God could love someone like you... someone like me... deeply enough to show us. To come down here - here with our death and sickness and heartbreak and struggles - and offer up Himself... His love... in the most spectacular way. Cards, trees and egg nog don't tell that story. Reindeer and tinsel don't either.

God came down... God came close... and love, finally, had a name: Jesus.

Hoping that - whatever else may be lost, doubted, mourned, feared, or unrealized - you will join me in holding close this shining thing, this blessed Christmas day, until we feel the surge of that childlike faith again.

Happy, happy Christmas, dear one. -Brin

My Messy, Thrilling Life Recipe Index

Looking for something delicious? Check out some of my favorite recipes!

 
 

Texas Loaded Queso Dip

Appetizers

Bacon Wrapped Chicken Bites (with Avocado Ranch Dip)
Texas Loaded Queso Dip

Texas Sweet Tea

Beverages

Christmas Glog
Texas Sweet Tea

Magic Milk Bread

Breads

Brin's Biscuits (!)
Cheddar Scallion Scones
Farmhouse Rolls 
Magic Milk Bread 
Southern Banana Bread (and Muffins)
Strawberry Sugar Bread

Fall Apple Cake

Desserts

Banana Berry Trifle
BEE (Best Ever Eaten) Cake
Blueberry Breakfast Bars
Cast Iron Skillet Cookies  
Chocolate Sauce
Christmas CrockPot Candy
Christmas Spiced Peaches
Cranberry Christmas Cookie
Fall Apple Cake
Fall Fruit Crisp
Fancy Pear Bread Pudding
Homemade Vanilla Pudding
Magical Apple Pie Filling

Cheddar Crisps

Favorite Extras

Cheddar Crisps
Cranberry Jalapeno Jam
Herb Bombs 
Homemade Butter

Second Runner Up Lasagna

Main Courses 

Brin's Second Runner Up Lasagna
Chump Chicken
Pollo Alla Cacciatora (My Crazy Chicken Fave)
Turkish Palace Stuffed Chicken
Quick Spinach & Lemon Pasta (Daffodil Pasta)

Cream of Mushroom Soup

Soups

Homemade Cream of Mushroom Soup 
Tomato Basil Soup

Roasted Tomatoes

 Vegetables

Gruyere Potato Gratin
Roasted Tomatoes 
Thyme Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Blue Cheese

Chocolate and Clementines

Last night I heard about a study relating to children and excessive giving. It concluded that we are guilty of heaping far too many new things upon our children and, as a result, instead of appreciating and enjoying what they've just been handed, the little guys are busy anticipating the next new thing. A cell phone? That's cool. But I really want an iPod. An iPod? That's cool. But what I really wanted was a 4-player Wii Video Game System....

I laughed and thought about how true that rings. Growing up, my brothers and sisters and I got new things at birthdays and Christmas. That's about it. My birthday falls in April, so I had plenty of time to wear out my dolls and games by the time Santa came to town. And I valued those presents! I still have many of the dolls and books and games I got as a child. They meant so much to me. Presents seemed to mean more then. Or is it just me?

If losing your job (and finding yourself either over or under qualified for lots of new employment opportunities) has crashed down anything upon my psyche, it's this: the value of things. I've found, in the past few weeks, just how many excessive things I've been financing. How many things were automatically deducted out of my account that I barely noticed and hardly needed. I've realized how many books and hobby stuff I purchased regularly. How much I spent on gifts and meals. How much money I threw at fancy dog food and treats and toys and puppy daycare (when I was in the city). Seriously. And now that the tap's turned off, I feel... hollow, somehow, but in a calm way. There's been an emptying of things, and the clamoring and rattling inside me is... silent. Could it be gone then, too?

Saturday I got sick again, as I often do when I find myself stressed and the house gets bitterly cold. I had fever and stomach issues and a cold sore. My Mom came to check on me and help out... twice, which she rarely does, and it meant so much. Then on Sunday night Grace unexpectedly showed up with bags of soup and vegetables and coffee and yogurt. And a crate of clementines. The fruit was so beautiful, I thought, piled up and nearly bursting juice out of their fleshy peels.

I let Grace's clementines be until yesterday, when I sliced through the netting and dropped one inside the pocket of my relatively expensive robe (that I'd never worn until this week). Digging into the freezer, I also pulled out the last chocolate square I'd sneaked back from Turkey... damak...(a silky smooth European chocolate with pistachios)... and slid it into my pocket, too. Then I went and sat in front of the library fireplace and watched the Christmas tree lights twinkle and slowly peeled my clementine and ate it with my chocolate square.

It was the best dessert I've ever had in my life. The best. It was truly savored. I felt like Jo in Little Women, when she walks around with her Christmas orange for days, rolling it in her hands and smelling it. An orange. Can you imagine giving a child an orange in her stocking this Christmas? It would get a bigger eye-roll than underwear. An orange. What's an orange to us nowadays? What's a clementine? Nothing. Maybe we've had too many. Maybe our sense of value is too stretched-out to do us any good. Maybe it's because we think about our next meal while we're eating this one. We forget how wonderful it all is. How immensely blessed we all are.

At least I did. It took a thoughtfully-given clementine and a hoarded chocolate bar, which I can't go out and buy here, to remind me. Don't miss the gifts you have right now, they whispered. Don't forget to count up the small blessings as you add up your life.

********

Jesus talked more about money than He did heaven and hell combined. Crazy, when you consider it. He also talked about how hard it is for rich people to come to God. It would be easier for a camel to pass through an eye of a needle, He said, than for a rich man to go to heaven. Why? Because people comfortable in their lives feel no need to make provisions for the next. Why would you need God when you have it all, anyway?

********

Yes, life gets simpler over here by the day. And you know what? It's just fine with me. It's good for us, I think, to be brought to a place of dependence on God. It's not fun. It's certainly not cool. But it's an incredible place to be. (When did we start measuring success with a stuff yardstick, anyway? Why can't the "successful" folks be the ones whose kids value what they're given? Why can't a worldly honor of success be bestowed on folks who live day to day, too? Why can't success be a title for a father who makes time for his kids? An aunt who makes chocolate chip cookies? A nurse who sits up with ill? A teacher who never backs down? A mother who says bedtime prayers? A preacher who perseveres? Why can't the "successful" folks be girls in handknitted scarves who sit in old houses, gratefully eating chocolate squares and clementines?)

I'm still thinking on it all. But in the meantime, I'll think I'll go have another clementine and a mug of tea for lunch....

Sure wish that chocolate hadn't disappeared already.... [wink]