Hello, 2015.

We rang you in with a reality bang. You gave us a few inches of perfectly powdery snow -an almost poetic symbol of a clean sheet. We spent 4 billion hours dressing the children appropriately to bask in the winter wonderment which they DID

… for 20 minutes which is long enough to snap a few pictures and become totally disenchanted with the idea of a clean sheet.

New leaves and clean sheets always hold more splendor in the first twenty minutes… after the enchantment comes reality.

Our reality check came in the form of a toddler begging to build a snowman but running a 102.5 fever.
“A ‘noman?” her big, hopeful blue eyes would look up at her Dad.
“Honey,” he’d get down to her eye level, “I’m sorry, but we can’t, okay?  You’re SICK.”
Bottom lip Protrude.
Crocodile Tears Shower.
Tiny Shoulders Fall.
Big Daddy Break.

We wrapped her up tight, tight and took her outside where she became VERY angry with the snow for being COLD (the AUDACITY of NATURE -as a woman, I fully get behind her indignation), and she fell asleep against my chest. I wrapped my heavy coat around her and took a short walk in the setting sun.
Once inside, she woke up while I rocked her in the recliner and then she THREW up, coating me with an entirely different kind of sheet which was neither fresh or new.
Same old, same old reality.

Because she couldn’t build her ‘noman, we did the next best and outfitted her in warm Elsa and Ana feety PJs and gave her a bottle with chamomile tea.
So that starts our list.
Everything Alice Needs When Feverish and Bossy:
1) Elsa
2) Bottle

3) Sibling Support (“want Lace. want Twent.”)

4) A Dad

5) …with ears

6) A Dog

I’m sure I’m on that list. After all, someone needs to clean up the mess. Catch the mess? Either way, I’m here for you, child.

While the kids did their best to force the powdery snow to pack (so disappointing), I stayed inside and whipped up a fancy gluten-free substitution for my Mom’s orange rolls. I used my gluten free pancake mix, added some full-pulp orange juice to the batter and topped them off with some orange syrup. And there was much joy and rejoicing because it DID the trick! My hunger for her orange rolls was satisfied. We ate warm ham and fresh pineapple with our pancakes.
We ate from REAL plates (even though I had Styrofoam! check me out) and drank Martinelli because our kids like fancy things.

We rejoiced over the fresh snow on a holiday because it meant we could all stay home and stay close.
We rejoiced over the hot chocolate mixes on our counter because it meant we could treat ourselves on a snow holiday.
We even rejoiced over the sick baby because it meant quarantine, and there’s beauty in quarantines when your house is full of free time, new toys, and yummy food and no sharing. Ha!

I don’t know if your New Year’s Day looked like ours in some way… if you mentally prepped yourself to bask in a clean sheet. Maybe you did. Maybe you ARE. Maybe you’re still prepping, maybe you’re basking. Maybe you’ve been hit with reality. Maybe you’ve let go of the idea of clean sheets on January 1st and embrace them whenever they show up.
I don’t always make New Year’s Resolutions myself. This year I did. I’ll tell you about it in a second.
But first:

A few years ago, I made a New Year’s Resolution to read three positive wikipedia articles when I said something negative about someone else. Genius, right? You can’t remove an old habit and NOT replace it with something wonderful, right? Otherwise you’ll just be left with a gigantic empty holey vacuum in your soul, right? And that’s scary, right?
I understood this principle, yes I did. Because I read a lot of self-help articles written by intellectuals.

I was diligent and so virtuous about the whole thing. Really, I was. Each wikipedia article I read doused me with everything healthy for me: guilt, shame, a wrist slap, and a healthy education. I had successfully enrolled myself in Boot Straps Boot Camp.
Any pain aimed at me could and would be thwarted with my muscles. My bootstraps! My big girl panties!
All around me were people who WEREN’T pulling themselves up, and I would judge them. WHY? Why weren’t they pulling themselves together? Didn’t they know about the self-help articles? On occasion I would send them a few, just for good measure and to put another gold star on my mental Good Turn Daily chart. Then I’d mentally fold my mental chart up, put it away and move right along to judgement.
This is where my New Year’s Resolution came into high play.
I’d begin to give voice to my judgments, hate what I heard coming out of my own mouth and punish myself. Checks and balances, friends. It’s an age-old system that works political wonders.

I will tell you that after my Boot Straps Boot Camp came my fire.
I am here to tell you that the past 18 months of my life have been a baptism by fire. I found myself somewhere in that inexplicable corner of the universe where my emotional pain morphed into physical pain.
My heart, though it seemed safely encased in the cavity of my chest, felt as if it were bleeding out in my hands.
That’s what addiction does.

I’ve heard addicts say their choices only affected them. But I know someone (because I kind of know myself a little better now) who walked around life for years with her bleeding heart in her hands and on her sleeve and can tell you that it’s just not true.
My husband’s addiction obliterated me.

I know now that addiction isn’t about choice. It isn’t even really about substance.
I remember curling up one day when I couldn’t face the pain of my life and binge watching, “My Strange Addiction” and saw person after person consumed with the same behaviors I witnessed in my husband. It doesn’t matter WHAT the substance is… if there’s a God-hunger, the means and methods and behaviors that go along with filling it are textbook. How harrowing my judgement had become -how deeply rooted, how scathing -so much aimed at my husband.
But the more I bled out and the more the fire burned, the more I realized I, I… I… needed God. My God-hunger was simply being filled in other ways: pride, judgement, big girl panties.
I was my own Savior, I had no want.

But could I save my own bleeding heart? Could I fix or medicate the pain that flowed through me as I walked through life surrounded by people who couldn’t see my soul wreck?
Everything I once judged my neighbors for… everything I disapproved of… I DID.
I broke in that fire.
My boot straps, big girl panties, and self-help books burned FIERCELY.

Saying, “It really hurt” is honest but insufficient.

This year I don’t resolve to lose weight or get fit. I don’t resolve to eat more greens. I don’t resolve to give more service. I don’t resolve to clean more or organize my closet or read more books or read less books.

What DO I resolve to do?
I’m going to
(oh my goodness, are you ready for this?)
make a family cookbook.

Why? Because God wants me to. I feel prompted to make a cookbook filled with pictures and family quotes and things that bring me true joy. I’m having a blast, taking it slowly (my computer died again), and getting some creative ideas. I’ve titled it, “Grilling Grandma.” It will be Lacy’s dowry.

But really -when I say my New Year’s Resolution is to write a cookbook, what I’m saying in essence is that my New Year’s Resolution is to stand in the middle of life’s fire and tap into God’s incomparable offering of grace: let the fire burn my man-made defenses… pride, intellect, will! As my layers burn to ashes at my feet, the refining fire polishes my core, my center! And in that fire, I find serenity. I find calm. I find God’s will, God’s firmly gentle hand.

I find myself.
I find cookbooks.
I find life’s mess.
I find love.

If I could offer anything to you this brand new year, it would be love.

Would I need self-help with love? Would I need green drinks and Jillian Michaels and thick textbooks to FORCE MYSELF to BE BETTER so I would finally, finally LOVE MYSELF?
No.
For when I love myself, there is health. Therein is abundance.
Surprisingly, therein is imperfection.

I highly, highly recommend this book and I don’t highly recommend any self-help books, so it’s kind of a big deal for me:

And for all the mess, reality is worth it:

Santa-ish:

Parents-ish:

Grandparents-ish:

 

Love-ish:

And just in case your heart is as cold as your ears this morning, here’s a picture of a true cowboy putting tiny pink cowgirl boots on his great-grandgirl. Cue heart melt.

Did anyone else have a table that looked like this after Christmas?

And that’s AFTER we’d cleaned up.  At least our living room was manageable, so what better place to eat, right?  Picnic time.

 

Thank goodness for the sheet because of course the Egg Nog ended up on end.  After cleaning dinner up, we turned a movie on.  While everyone was absorbed in the screen, I noticed that Alice was missing and QUIET. I immediately perked up and did a quick scan of the room.

I found her in no time, quietly cooing to the “okay to play with and break” Nativity set.  She was facing everyone toward the Christ Child:

Such a tender moment, such a wonderful reminder. Is there really anything sweeter than a child?

Every year, a few of us gather in the old “red room” of my great-grandma’s old house.  We’re one of those lucky families who happen to be related to the people living in our great-grandparent’s old home, and though Aunt Cat let go of the “red room” carpet, we all still feel right at home.  As I play Aunt Cat’s old piano, I can remember sitting in that same room years ago staring at my great-grandmother’s collection of porcelain shoes.

Oh, how I wanted one.  Each time I’d ask for one -as children tend to do -she’d always give the same answer, “When I’m dead… you can have them.”
As a child -and as children tend to do -I mentally fist pumped. Her words brought me some kind of hope that SOMEDAY the shoes WOULD be mine. Of course when the day came that she did pass away, I didn’t think once about her shoes. A few weeks later, her daughter-in-law offered me my pick of her shoes, and I wanted so badly to get *just* the right one. I didn’t want to regret my choice.
I was 12 at the time and though a few years had passed since Nunna promised me her entire collection (which I’m sure she promised to most all of the grand kids who asked), I could vividly remember the thrill of the idea: owning one of her shoes.
I could grasp the sentimentality attached to the gleaming porcelain and knew that taking a shoe meant taking a piece of the red room with me for the rest of my own life.  But which one?
I reached out and took her Christmas Shoe, and as I held it between my hands I resolved that though Nunna’s collection was being pieced out -as it should have been -I would one day have my own collection.

I never do put that shoe away -it stays out in display all the year ’round, just like Nunna kept it. During the Christmas season, I do give it front row seating in some place or another. This year it was on the piano. I think it feels more at home near a piano.
It gained two new friends this year, and here is one of them:

Danny bought that one for my stocking. It’s the second one he’s added this year alone. At Disneyland, I bought myself a Mary Poppins themed shoe and was so thrilled with it, but not as thrilled as I was with the shoe Danny gave me on our 10th anniversary (which we spent at Disneyland with the kiddos).
It was closing time, and I was putting a jacket on Alice in front of the carousel, near the sword in the stone, when I felt a tug on my pant leg. I turned around to find Danny on one knee, holding up a beautiful decorative pillow with a small box on top: the box contained a small glass Cinderella slipper. Here’s a picture of my shoes (shakin’ off dust -that’s why there’s so much of it) and you can see my Mary Poppins shoe right next to my Cinderella glass slipper:

A wonderful, unforgettable gift that touched me deeply.
It’s amazing how something so small can bring me back to that quiet red room. It isn’t quiet anymore -at least, not when we get together for our annual Christmas sing-off. Sing along? I don’t know… sing-off seems more appropriate.
I didn’t get many pictures, so I stole a few of Aunt Cat’s :)

I will never get tired of putting my Alice in Nunna-Alice’s things… and parlors.
Here she is kissing her “great JuJu” (great aunt Julie’s nickname coined by Lacy).

Aunt Cat brought a lot of bright and light into the old parlor, and it makes a cheery setting for us all.

And yes, this is Grandpa’s cheery face. Don’t let him fool you.

Though we all know Grandpa’s at his cheeriest when he’s reliving nap time on his Old Home Day Bed:

That man… he truly is the very best.

And now I’ll tell you how his wife and MY very own grandmother gave me a sleeve for Christmas.

Truth be told, I don’t think Grandma had any idea what she brought to the white elephant gift exchange… Aunt JuJu usually fixes her up with something classy. Like a tat sleeve.

That night we came home pretty festive with a few new hats, a few new toys, and a few good memories. All we missed were a few good people: those who helped build the beautiful parlor and those who have always helped fill it (here’s lookin’ at you, Steve).

The weekend of December 13th, we gathered at Danny’s sisters house and made a wonderful kind of merry.  We dressed up all the grandkids Nativity-style, ate some amazing food, unwrapped gifts, and listened to Grandma Hoopes read a story to the grandkids.

The kids were all sporting red shirts in honor of Operation Christmas Child Box.

Lacy was Mary, and her cousin, Brayden, was Joseph.

We had a full cast of shepherds, wise men, baby Jesus, and an angel!

Alice made the cutest little shepherd, but she hated the get up and gig.

After we snapped some cute pictures of the kids, we all gathered around Grandma Hoopes as she read her traditional Christmas story:

This year Grandma got to read from an iPad which came in handy because we couldn’t find the story in printed form.

We lined them all up oldest to youngest to exchange their presents from cousins.

The kids had a blast playing with their new toys, and we wrapped up the night by gathering up our family with Danny’s sister’s family to watch, “Christmas Oranges” and the kids now have a new most-hated movie. Kids have just the right balance of compassion and indignation to really mess up a mean school marm UP.
“This is NOT a fair movie.” ~Lacy Deets
I wish I was better at editing movie clips, but I’m not… so there’s a few dull moments but I truly love this video… especially the angel.

But it was all worth it WHEN:

 

Happy New Year!  We went to sleep and woke up to snow!
To celebrate New Year’s Eve, we made homemade sushi and read Dr. Seuss and drank Retro Soda and then the kids decked themselves out appropriately to play in the snow. Minutes after going outside, calamity struck in the form of Lacy pelting Trenton in the face with a snowball.
He choked on it, gagged and then barfed.
Lacy felt horrible about it and Trent will probably not eat sushi for a very long time.
So, how was your New Year’s Eve?

Today’s Christmas short involves one of my favorite Christmas movies, “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Are you familiar with it? With George and Mary?

Danny isn’t the biggest fan of old movies, but I’ve converted him to a few. It’s a Wonderful Life is one we can watch over and over.
Danny’s favorite part:
I don’t have a favorite.  And by that I mean, there’s not enough room in a post that uses the word “short” in it’s title to post every one of my favorite parts of It’s a Wonderful Life, so I’ll just focus on the one this post is actually about:

Christmas morning, we unwrapped presents one by one.  Danny was in charge of who got what present and when… he was being pretty fussy about it.  I couldn’t figure out why until my turn came to open a present and he handed me a tiny lego man with twine tied to his hand:

Danny told me to pull on the twine, and as I did, I could see it was coiled up and attached to a gift:

Inside the present was a necklace with a note:

Trent saw it and did his best George Bailey impressions, “Whaddaya want, do ya want the moon, Mary?”
And I gotta say, it was pretty dead on.

For Christmas, I was given a lassoed moon.  That makes life pretty wonderful in my book.

(“Alice, no -stay!  Go back, we’re taking a picture!  SMILE!  Look at Mom!  Where’s Mom’s nose? Look at me, Alice! ALICE!  Oh, I give up…”)

This year, Trenton asked Santa for two things. They were simple and fun:
1) A Balloon Kit (to make balloon animals like his aunt JuJu)
2) A Bandaloom

I made sure both items were ordered online in sufficient time, and hid them well at my Dad’s mechanic shop when they came. Lacy asked for two things as well, but not at the same time:
1) A Sewing Machine (they make awesome mini machines for like 50 bucks!)
2) A Bandaloom

She didn’t let me know she planned on asking Santa for a bandaloom until it was far too late to order one online. I remembered my sweet cousin offered to sell me the one she owned which was used but in great condition, so I stocked the thought in my memory…
Alicia, don’t forget to buy Clarissa’s bandaloom in time for Christmas. But don’t worry, you’ve got time…

You’ve got time. Those three words will be my ultimate undoing.

Needless to say, midnight came on Christmas Eve and THEN I remembered.
“Danny, I forgot! the bandaloom! Clarissa’s bandaloom!”
“Are they awake still?” He asked. We texted, we facebook messaged… nothing.
After some thought, we took a game of chess/checkers we’d bought, put it with Lacy’s stuff and wrote a note “from Santa” that said basically, “I know you asked for a bandaloom, but a little elf told me you’d be getting one on Christmas Day from someone else… wonder who it is?”
We planned on having Clarissa wrap and give the bandaloom to Lacy under the guise of a GIFT, but we’d actually pay her.
It SEEMED sketchy, but there’s really no blessed end to the rosy imaginings that Lacy will believe (something I love most about her and only take advantage of SOMEtimes).

We went to bed a little troubled, but too tired to lose another wink of sleep.
Four hours later at 6 am, I heard a knock. My eyes popped open.
Was that the door?
I held still and listened… it wasn’t the door. Was it in my mind? Was I crazy? What time…? I pulled my cell phone very close to my blind eyes and looked. It was 6 am, and I had a text from Clarissa. She had the bandaloom ready.
“Danny,” I hissed in the dark, “Danny… Rissy has the bandaloom. What should we do?”
“My body says sleep,” he moaned, “But my heart…”
He rolled out of bed and into a pair of tennis shoes. I stood guard outside the kids’ room and watched Danny open our bedroom window.
“Wait!” I whispered, “You need money to pay for it!”
“I don’t have any left!”
We both knew where there WAS money… and someday we’ll sit Lacy down and tell her about the year Dad launched himself from the bedroom window to buy her Santa gift with her own piggy bank money. But today is not that day.  We’ll tell her in a few years when the truth about Santa and been uncovered and the money has been long replaced.
“You gonna be okay?” I smiled at him literally perched in the frame of our window, his 34-year old body in a tired squat.
“Ten four,” he said, saluted me and disappeared into the night.
We texted back and forth furiously.
I had to go to the bathroom, but I couldn’t leave my station.
6:30 came and my alarm went off.
I fumbled my phone in the darkness, cursed in my mind, listened with every inch of my ear to make sure there was NO MOVEMENT from the kids’ room. That’s when the cats outside got into a hissy fight, and I cursed in my mind again.
The bedroom door creaked open and Lacy gasped out loud.
“Mom! What are you DOING?! you SCARED ME!” she whispered out loud to the dark, hovering figure of her mother looming in her doorway.
I apologized and told her to stay put.
“I heard the cats…” she said.
“Did it scare you?”
“Yeah. Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Did Santa come?”
“He DID!” I said, my eyes glowing with Santa magic, “But you can’t come out until Daddy gets back inside. He took the dog out.”
And then I texted the lie to my husband, “WE HAVE A WAKER. I told her you were taking the dog out. Do not come back through the window.”
“Mom, I really have to pee,” my son was now awake and trying to push by.
“Not yet! We need to wait for Dad!”
“I won’t even look, Mom, I promise, but I HAVE TO PEE.”
“You can wait…”
And that’s when he peed his pants.
Falalalala lalalala

Dad came in, the chess/checkers game was put between my stocking and Danny’s stocking. Santa’s note disappeared.
The bandaloom was put in it’s rightful place, and Magic was had all around.
As Lacy pulled her Santa gifts down and played with them, she was in complete awe.
“Mom,” she said, her bright eyes looking up into mine, “Santa is an incredible man.”
I looked up at Danny and agreed with her.

Christmas 2014 has been the best Christmas season of my life.  There’s so many reasons why -each reason has it’s own little story, so for the next few days, I’ll be hosting my own sort of Christmas Featurette.  Each day a new short story will be posted, and I hope to record every single one with the detail it deserves because I never, no never, want to forget how precious this Christmas season was to me and my little family.

Disclaimer: the short stories will probably NOT be in time sequenced order.  Because my mind has never gotten along very well with time anything.

Once upon a time, our family saved every last penny found in every last pocket and took a trip to Disneyland in September.

It was the perfect time to take our kids -Lacy was 7, Trenton was almost 6, Alice was a year and a half. Minimal diaper changing, no nursing, most everyone could walk on their own though Mom failed the m{ yn^{}hn ‘;x
v v / /c./a],d/;[ in that area, and best of all: It was COMPLETELY magical. In our family, we still believe in Santa and the tooth fairy. Going to Disneyland was a total blast. The kids’ eyes lit up the minute they saw Main Street. They sported their “1st Visit” pins are were treated like royalty. The rides, the music! The unholy amounts of wishing wells!
We spent FOUR days playing.

Those four days of play (plus one day spent introducing our kids to the beach) will never leave our memory. Never will we again capture the magic as beautifully as we did on that first visit. Never again will Lacy be 7 and throwing quarters into every wishing well. Never again will Trenton be 6 and believe that he met the REAL Captain America. Never again will we have a first time at Disneyland.

It was well worth it.
That said: we were pretty broke for Christmas. I just want to be clear that I’m not complaining. I am 100% at peace with having no money for Christmas because Disneyland was WORTH it.

As we gathered up money from the far pockets of our universe, Danny and I sat together and decided that we could afford (s-a-n-t-a) gifts, some clothes, and some solid, nice bedding. The kids HAVE bedding, but it’s mismatched. It’s always been mismatched. A few sheets there, a few throws there, a blanket here, a comforter there. We decided this year would be THE year.
New, matching sheets and pillowcases!
Comforters!

Their room is decorated colorfully, so I wanted solid comforters for each child. Patterned bedding would be too LOUD.

We went to the store and found the exact kind of bedding we were looking for -on CLEARANCE. The sheets weren’t on clearance, but we carefully picked out coordinating colors and then checked out.
We didn’t tell anyone about this.
I mean, WHO DOES?
Who says, “So, you’ll never guess what I’m getting the kids! SHEETS!”

I didn’t.
Danny didn’t.

But the next day -the NEXT day -I went to work. I parked my ol’ truck outside and went inside the concrete office where I froze for 2 1/2 hours before getting back in my truck to pick up my son from school.
But there was a box in my passenger seat.
A BIG box.
A BIG box with a card on it.

The card told me to open the box, so I took it home.
“Danny,” I whispered, “Look!”
“What’s that?” he raised an eyebrow.
“I have no idea! Let’s go open it!”
We ran to our room, we locked the door and with my car keys in hand, we ripped open the gift.
The note attached revealed that the gift was given by someone who reads this blog. I have NO IDEA who it is, but I do know this: God was in that package.
Because it was sheets. SHEETS! And they matched the bedding we’d bought! The bedding we had told no one about! Danny and I stared at each other in awe, not really knowing what to say.
“Did you say anything about buying bedding?”
“Did YOU?”
“No. At least… DID I?”

After sputtering about it for a few minutes, we both came to the conclusion that we hadn’t breathed a word about it because talking about sheets is boring and neither of us are boring people, right? Right.

There were sheets for each of the older children, mattress pad protectors, and throws! It truly was magic! Our faces lit up much like the children’s on Main Street USA.
How did they know?

There was a book included that felt like it was written just for me to read to children who came FROM me… it’s a book that uses words to make awesome. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just happy it exists and that I know about it now.
It’s titled The Book With No Pictures:

Danny and I read it out loud on the spot and giggled, giggled, giggled. The giggling continued as we wrapped the presents and unwrapped the bag of Dove chocolates left by the Secret Santa.
The messages in the chocolates were as uncanny as the gifts themselves, and Danny and I were left with BIGGER hearts that day.

Still we wonder, “WHO?”
It was our second time being Secret Santa’d this year, and we were deeply touched at how specific and perfect it all turned out.

And so I ask in all sincerity without a hint of threat (because it could come out like that):

Who are you and how did you know?
Because of your gift, we were able to return the sheets we bought and give the money to the kids to pick out gifts for each other! It enriched our Christmas, and as a parent, my heart filled to the brim as I watched my kids snuggle up for the first night ever in fully made and outfitted BEDS. They love them and Lacy refused to get out of her bed the next day. I thought she was sick. She was just comfortable.
What’s more: they feel safer. Thank you, dear friend, whoever you are.

We will never forget you -and I want you to know that you did more than you think you did. We were blessed by your temporal gifts, but the emotional and spiritual uplift you sent will long outlast the sheets, the books, the throws, and the mattress pad protectors.
In fact, it already HAS outlasted the chocolate.

Merry Christmas to all.

I have always hated the 23rd.
It’s the most useless, necessary day EVER. It serves no purpose, except to take up space before Christmas…

As a little girl, I remember staring at my face in the mirror and having the same feelings about the cheeks on my face. SPACE TAKER UPPERS! They didn’t smell or taste or hear or see… they just took up space. I needed them, to be sure, but they were frustratingly lazy. The 23rd is LAZY.

This day just slow-pokes itself along… it isn’t Christmas Eve, it isn’t Christmas, it’s just TWO LOUSY DAYS before Christmas. In the past, I’ve optimistically tried to give it a useful name like, “The Eve of Christmas Eve” but that just sounds dumb.
And it IS dumb.

I usually try to enjoy each day -each moment -as it comes, but today is just stupid. I’m impatient, and impatient people find the 23rd of December to be basically The Worst Idea in the History of the World. How do we even approach this day? Eat our way through it? Sleep our way through it? Movie marathon ourselves until we hate everything and everyone around us?! There’s always the option of shopping (which has the same effect as Movie Marathoning, ironically).
It’s too much to deal with.
I’m too excited, too impatient, and in an effort to power through today, I’m going to toss out a few options that think outside the Movie Marathon Box. We’ll get through today together.
I’m also going to throw in a few pictures of my family because.

#1) Facetime far-away friends and family who are also trying to just DEAL with today. (Steve? What time works best?)
#2) Master the art of Lotion Making with my 7 year old daughter who revealed her set in stone plans to own a boutique/antique store where she sells stuff she makes along side stuff that belongs to people who are no longer with us.

I have everything on hand -coconut oil, beeswax (bought:  Stakich 1 lb Pure Yellow BEESWAX Block – Craft Grade, Top Quality – because it saved me from grating, grating, grating), essential oils, jars… it’s going to be amazing. And messy. And fragrant.
#3) Go caroling and entertain other people who are basically doing good to just make it minute-to-minute today.
#4) Keep Christmas movies going in the background in an effort to WATCH THEM ALL AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE before Christmas goes away. My all-time favorites are found in this pretty bundle:

Christmas in Connecticut is non-optional. We’ll also been streaming, “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “White Christmas” and “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” (the cartoon -we’re proclaimed Seuss Purists), “A Christmas Story,” and our family favorite: ARTHUR CHRISTMAS!
We also haven’t been able to stop watching “While You Were Sleeping” and rewinding all the best parts. We can’t leave out “You’ve Got Mail” either.

#5) Wrap stuff.
#6) Clean stuff.
#7) Watch stuff that never fails to make me laugh so hard I cry.





#8) Watch stuff that never fails to touch me so deeply I cry.

#9) Cry, period. Because the 23rd is just… cry worthy.
#10) Tell the story of Lacy antique shopping with me. She had $2, and she selected two books -each one was $1. When the sweet shop owner rang her up, the total came to $2.18. Lacy looked up at me with the panic so familiar to me -the SHORT ON CASH panic.
“Just put the difference on my ticket,” I said, and went to hand her my stash of things I wanted to buy.
“No,” the owner put her hand out to stop me, “Let me teach her.”
My Mama Bear Instincts kicked into high gear. TEACH HER? Was she about to shame my daughter? Was she about to try and SCHOOL my daughter? I did a 2-second pep talk, readying myself to defend my daughter and save the world.
“Next time you go into an antique store,” the owner leaned over the counter to put herself at eye level with Lacy, “Ask the owner, ‘will you take less for this?’ Can you say that?”
“Can I pay less?” Lacy asked, timidly. The owner shook her bobbed hair, “No, no… Will you TAKE LESS for this?”
“Will you take less for this?” Lacy was half-hiding her face.
“Yes,” the owner took her place next to the cash register once more and handed her a new total: $1.95
We walked out of the store hand-in-hand, “Wow, that was NICE, huh, Mom?”
Nice, funny, festive. Lacy’s life seems to be one big mash-up of nice things.
Makes me glad to be part of the ride.

#10) Take a long, hot bath and get interrupted by a little baby stripping her PJs off and plopping herself in my water to confiscate my fancy tea mask.

#11) Do word searches with Trent because he has suddenly become the KING of the word search and amazed us all.
#12) Read stuff. I’m saving my list of Thing To Be Reading for after Christmas -because that’s the best time of all to be reading.
#13) Eat Stuff.
#14) Beat my impatience with a serenity stick. Do they sell those?

The past few months have been life changing for me… Just as I feel there truly isn’t a mortal word to describe the depth and span of God’s love for me, I believe there isn’t a mortal word for the gratitude I’ve felt.
I have a new motto: Do the next right thing. Trying to live my life in this way has brought me SO. MUCH. PEACE. I have been living a peace-starved life for much too long. Doing the next right thing has brought simplicity, serenity, and service into my life. More than anything -and this is surprising to me -it’s brought an acute awareness of JUST HOW MUCH GOD LOVES ME. In turn, this has brought an acute awareness of just how much He loves everyone. I see people differently. I spend less time objectifying people (cashier, parts delivery person, shopper, student…) and more time actually SEEING them: children of God, just like me.
This isn’t to say I do this perfectly. I don’t. Because doing the next right thing entails letting go of things I can’t handle or manage (other people, the future…) there are some days I FREAK OUT and try to manage and handle ALL OF THE THINGS, and I do. On those days, I don’t have peace or serenity, and I generally end up sleeping it off and trying again the next day.
It’s definitely a worthwhile process, but a painful one at that.

When Lacy came to me with an idea to give money to a sick child, I could feel it was The Next Right Thing. The pieces fell so naturally and seamlessly into place, completely VOID of the stress and pressure that comes with projects I CONTROL and MANAGE. God was in control of Operation Christmas Child Box.
As we went out shopping, we came across a donation canister that actually started the inspiration for Lacy’s project. I had the kids stand next to it so I could take a picture. Lacy was all about it. Trenton didn’t even make it into the frame, and then he went to pick his nose, and then he DID it. I caught it all, and I’m sharing it because when he’s 16, he needs to know that he picked his nose in public.

From the onset of Lacy’s inspiration to give Christmas to a family with a sick child, the project fell exactly into place. The money that God needed raised was raised. The family that God needed found was found, and I sat on the sidelines completely in AWE. What a miracle, what a LOUD manifestation of God’s love for EACH of His children!

Benny’s story isn’t the kind that makes all the front pages. It won’t show up on your news feed -he’s one of us: working each day to make it to the next day. His parents are trying to balance the worry of having a sick child with parenting and paying regular AND hospital bills. Their story isn’t broadcast anywhere.
BUT GOD KNOWS THEM.
Knowing that God is no respector of persons is peace-giving. God doesn’t care if you’re a celebrity or a politician or a mechanic or an accountant or black or white or orange (there’s an article about how we are all orange circulating). HE KNOWS about YOU.

I believe that Lacy and Benny came together to show THE REST OF US something God wants us to know, maybe more than He wants Benny to have dinosaur toys for Christmas…

I KNOW YOU NAME.
I KNOW YOUR PAIN.
I KNOW YOU.
I LOVE YOU.
I SEE YOU.

Benny’s mom had no idea when she met us who we were or what had gone on for a few weeks… she didn’t know we had been praying for Benny and his family.
We were set to meet his family at an event put together by a giving organization called HopeKids. Benny was coming to a movie theater with his mom and two brothers, and we arrived before them.
Here’s Lacy with Lisa and Bridget -two of the directors of HopeKids in the Phoenix area:

As we prepared to meet Benny, my emotions were really starting to get the better of me. When that happens, I don’t have the luxury of being a sweet, tender crying lady. I’m the lady who is frequently asked if there’s been a death in the family when they see me in tears.
I just FEEL stuff, okay guys?
Benny’s mom was led to us, with her baby in a sling, a toddler holding her hand, and a small child running at her feet.
“What organization are you with?” She asked, looking at us, confused at what she’d just been told: that little Lacy had money set aside just for them.

How much money? $1,290! She raised it herself! Before leaving town, I found Lacy counting her money and putting it away. She tucked it all safely up in her duct tape wallet and it was DAR-LING:

I made sure the cash wad was transferred safely to a bank bag…

As Benny’s mom tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, I began ugly crying and asked my husband to please take over trying to explain to her what was going on, which was:

Lacy was given Secret Santa gifts in a big box.
Lacy wanted to take that same box and fill it full of gifts to give someone ELSE.
She knew there were sick kids, and she wanted to give it to them.
She prayed.
She made a donation box.
She collected donations.
She prayed about WHO to give her donations to.
With the help of friends, family, and a few non-profits, she was given a few names of sick children in need.
She prayed again.

She picked Benny.

We left Benny’s mom to go shopping, and we spent all afternoon loading our cart the likes of which would have made SANTA proud.

It was inspiring to watch Lacy’s dream unfold -to see God’s hand in life, to see a miracle unfolding in the aisles of Target and Sam’s Club. It was truly memorable. And adorable.

We let Lacy have the reigns with this project… riiiiiight up until we went shopping because a 7 year old with a thousand dollars is a force to be reckoned with. We helped guide her heart away from the gigantic piles of gigantic fake jeweled necklaces and more toward the board books.
We all wore red -worked as a little festive holiday team.

Stopping for the occasional loose-tooth battle:

As the day wound down, we drove ourselves back to a family party where our cousins joined us in their RED-ness. They formed the sweetest little Nativity and tied a gorgeous bow on the spirit of the miraculous day:

The next day, we turned Danny’s sister’s living room into WRAPPING CENTRAL! The kids ripped and wrapped and loved every minute of it…

for about an hour. Then they all checked out, except for the biggest elf of all. I woke up briefly from a nap to snap this picture:

Way to go, Dad.
He had one little elf that worked longer than the others (Thank you, Ryland!) and the wrapping turned out great.

Sunday night, we went to the Mesa Temple lights as a family:

And then we met up with Benny’s family once again to make the drop off! It is a memory I will NEVER forget, no never.

Benny’s family presented Lacy with a necklace she won’t take off, and we left with our hearts completely FILLED. We gathered in our car and said a prayer of gratitude, asking God to help us NEVER forget the feeling in our hearts at that very moment.
It truly, TRULY felt like Christmas.

Did we start a new tradition? Maybe. But maybe the new tradition is a simple, daily decision to just…
DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING.
God will let us know what that is.

When I met up with Benny’s mom a second time, she confessed that her family had been praying for help -praying for God to make himself known. Then I shared my side of the coin: how for the FIRST time in my life, I’d heard in my heart the prayer of a family in need, the prayer of a family with a sick child. Although their prayer was a quiet one on their side, it was LOUD in Heaven, and I HEARD IT. God let me hear it. I had heard the prayers of Benny’s parents.
Miracle.
God knows you personally, and He is THERE, ALIVE, and AT WORK. Let Him.

As the remnants of a meteor shower fell all around us while we drove back to Northern Arizona that night, I was wrapped in the Savior’s loving arms… the words, “All is calm, all is bright” filled my soul, knowing that Heavenly Peace had just come to life in my own life.

I’m sharing Benny’s mother’s words of her own experience, and that will conclude this post: my Christmas greeting to you.

Three weeks ago Lionel and I got on our knees and prayed for a miracle. We asked God for help emotionally and financially. The next day God answered our prayers through our family that gathered money and groceries that we desperately needed. And within the next few days we were given a washer and dryer, which couldn’t have come at a better time! Little did we know that the night we prayed for help God picked a little girl to answer our prayers. Three weeks ago God touched her heart and gave her a desire to help a sick child in need. She didn’t know her angel would be Benny and we didn’t know our angel would be Lacy. God knew. Lacy is a 7 year old girl who was able to raise over $1,000 in just two weeks! She prayed and asked God to send the perfect fit for her project. She chose Benny Boots and our family to help. We were able to meet Lacy and her amazing family with the help of HopeKids. We cannot thank Lacy and her family enough for their incredible gift. God bless you and Merry Christmas!!