Christmas Cheer

Christmas for the past two days has looked a lot like this.  A fire crackling away in the fireplace:

Julia has barely been out of her pajamas and robe. She's usually reading something.

Yesterday Adam began making his turtles. He's not very happy with them this year. He got his hands on some misbehaving chocolate. I told him they still taste delicious.

As you know, yesterday was Philip's birthday.  He requested burgers on the grill and homemade fries for supper. The burgers are made with Greek seasonings. Philip grilled the burgers in the cold. Adam made the fries.  I warmed the beans in the oven.  Yeah, I know. I have such a rough life :)

More food gifts came our way last night at our church's Candlelight Service. These cookies are so adorable. I wonder if it does psychological damage to us that we learn as children to bite the heads off cookie men?

Friends at church gave us a poinsettia after the service.

The carnage this morning in the living room.  Julia was allowed up at 7:00 to investigate her stocking.  Presents were opened at about 9:00, out of consideration to the teenagers who love sleeping in above all else.

Adam made monkey bread for breakfast for our sweet-tooth girls.

And I made Christmas Breakfast Casserole for the rest of us.

Here's the simple recipe.  It's very moist and yummy.

8 eggs, beaten in a large bowl
6 slices of bread, cubed
1 lb. sausage, browned and crumbed
2 cups milk
1 tsp salt
1 tsp mustard

Mix these together well, and pour into 9x13 baking dish.  Put 1 cup of grated cheddar cheese on top. Bake at 350º for 35 minutes.

Happy Birthday, Philip!

Twenty years ago today, I was in my first labor. About 6:00 PM,  Philip came into the world.  And no matter how big, and capable, and independent he gets, he'll always be my Christmas baby boy.
Here he is, about a week old.  He already had that little-old-man look. And, I'm embarrassed to say, I still have that sweater and wear it ALL the time.

He was an adorable little boy with huge brown eyes.  This is one of his best buddies, Brown Bear.  Brown Bear went off to college with him too.

I'll skip all those awkward middle school pictures.  Here he is in high school.  Not every young man can pull off a red striped bow tie AND a flowered apron, simultaneously. He has wild, curly, soft hair. I have to keep after it.

Lately, he's had a lovely young woman on his arm, Rebecca.  This photo was taken last summer.

So proud of you, Philip, even though you've already told me you've never read my blog. Sniff. We're so glad you're our son.

Remembering Heaven

Yesterday I happened upon an article from World Magazine online by Amy Henry. In it, she tells of a friend named Louise Owen (here's her blog) who has an unusual condition called hyperthymesia.  Basically, hyperthymesia gives the person amazing memory skills.  Louise can remember, accurately and vividly, each day of the past 25 years.  If you give her a date, she can tell you the day of the week, the news of that day, the weather, what she did, wore, ate, and what happened in her life.  More than that, the events bring with them the emotions she felt at the time -- hyperthymesia makes the person relive the event itself.  I imagine it would be emotionally exhausting.  Have you ever thought what a blessing it is to be able to forget?  Or just to have memories and their attending emotions fade, or become gilded?

I've already written here about my husband's synesthesia. Some might call it is a disorder. Certainly synesthesia is unusual, as is hyperthymesia. Most of us ordinary folk look on these special traits or abilities with interest, even awe. A bit freakish? What would it be like to taste lemon each time you saw the color green, or the number 7? What if certain music made you smell particular aromas? We can call it a confusion of the senses, because it seems confusing to us, whose senses are nicely segregated. Or are they -- aren't our taste and smell intimately connected?  What if all our senses were meant to be that way --  Integrated and inter-functioning to enrich the sensory experience?

I'm a musician of sorts, and I've known only two musicians in my life with perfect pitch.  One is the amazing and gifted music director of the church I grew up in, a large Presbyterian church in Mississippi. He can give you an A-flat out of thin air, I think. Perfect pitch. You would know when any soprano was even a tiny bit flat. Would it be agony or ecstasy? And if it's agony, is it only because there is so much bad music, poor music, in this fallen world?  If all music were perfect, would perfect pitch be a pleasure?  My other friend is a vioinist. I sat by her one Christmas as we sang carols.  She played her violin exactly like a voice; it was singing. Always -- always! -- perfectly on pitch.

Perfection is beauty.

[At this point, I'm gonna warn you, I'm about to drift off into speculation.  If you think I'm nuts, that's fine with me. I think if there were no nuts, there would be very little interesting in the world.]

Adam has been sad that his synesthesia seems to be diminishing as he ages.  The colors aren't so vibrant or distinct.  He misses it.  Strange as it always was to him, it was a personal joy, and a beauty to see the numbers that were in his mind. We've both wondered about these traits.  Why do some humans have them? And what would it be like if more humans had them? All?

As a Christian who believes in the Bible rather literally, I know that sin permeates our world. We are thoroughly, irrevocably and totally affected by Adam's fall. He is the federal head of the human race, and by our genetic relationship to him, we are all imperfect. I think every atom in my body is damaged, and I'm not talking just spiritual talk.  Yes, my soul is sinful.  But it's my body that's aging, diseased, aching. Sin is working on my body every minute of every day.

But what if it weren't? We occasionally think of what an unfallen world might be like, or even unfallen souls.  But unfallen bodies? What would they be able to do?  Is it possible that these occasional traits of hyperthymesia, synesthesia, perfect pitch (are there others?), are traits humans are supposed to have, that we would have if we weren't fallen? That we will have again?

It all depends on your view of sin, of course. As the generations spin along, I think man's sinful qualities become more and more pronounced, and the glory and wonder of the garden diminishes in him. Imagine this:  men and women in early history who lived 700, 800, 900 years (as Scripture records it).  What if many of them had hyperthemesia, and could recall with pristine accuracy each day?  What kind of record keeping and oral retellings would you get? We dismiss early records, but perhaps we don't know what kind of people we're dismissing.

These are all just ramblings, of course, but I enjoy them. I enjoy thinking about what the New Earth will be like (as you know). We can imagine perfect health, endless life, being pain-free.  But what about the aspects to that life that we haven't considered? What about human abilities that have been so lost that there's almost no trace of them? All my heavenly days will be glorious; I hope I will recall them all, and never forget one of them.

About those movies ....

Well, so far I've watched two more of the movies I mentioned earlier this week. Adam and I watched Stone of Destiny and really enjoyed it.  It's a pretty clean movie, with only one simple kissing scene, and probably a few cuss words.  The "true story" aspect of it is fascinating too.

Tonight we watched The City of Your Final Destination. I would only recommend this movie with a good bit of caution. It's long. The plot is slow and somewhat odd/flagging at the end.  No violence, little language, but there is one rather significant homosexual relationship in the movie (with some affection involved), and if that will offend you, I'd avoid the movie. I enjoy foreign films with beautiful scenery and odd characters, but I think this movie just about put Adam to sleep, poor guy.

We also watched The Blind Side, which I know the rest of the world has already seen. But in case you haven't, of course it is highly recommended.  Great feel-good story, and I love Bullock's character.  If I had that kind of money, I might have turned out more like that mama :)

Celebrating like the Jews

Like I said, today begins Adam's annual chocolate turtle making. First, he cleans the peanuts, removing any skin, peanut dust or other undesirables from them.

Then he makes the caramel.  This is white sugar, brown sugar, corn syrup, heavy cream, butter & salt. Anna is still helping at this point.  You never know when Anna will bail and go read on the couch. Adam is shooting for 200º.

This is the cookbook he uses for his turtles. We bought this years ago.  I made one chocolate cake recipe from it, which turned out disgusting. After that, I have generally left the candy-making to the husband.

The caramel foams, and eventually boils.  When it's about 235º (I think), it's ready for soft-ball stage.

This is a fuzzy picture of the caramel he drops into ice water, to see if it's to the correct stage for turtles.  He doesn't want it rock hard, or too gooey.

Then he pours it out on the peanuts and uses his bench knife to mix it all together.

More stirring...

And the glisteny mass looks like this.

We (I use that term loosely) make these turtles to give away to friends at Christmas.  Adam will finish them tomorrow, and we'll bag them up and drive around town, hoping to find people at home. It's an unusual tradition, but a wonderful one. At what other time of year do people take food gifts to each other?

The Jews did.  I read about it just this morning, serendipitously. Remember the story of Esther?  She was a Jewish girl, amazingly chosen by the Persian king to be his queen. But then an enemy of the Jews plots to have ALL the Jews from India to Ethiopia (that's basically all the Jews anywhere, back then, unless there were a few holing up in Athens) murdered.  He sneakily got the king's approval to issue an irrevocable edict, that all Persians everywhere should murder any Jew they knew, and then they could keep the dead Jews' property.

Esther and her uncle were successful in exposing the plot, and although they couldn't get the edict revoked, the king issued a new one that basically empowered the Jews to protect themselves, defusing the possible violence.  When the 2nd edict came out, the Jews were ecstatic -- can you imagine the huge relief?

A death sentence, an irrevocable one, was on your head, on your children's heads. Then, one day -- life is given back to you! What relief!  And those Jews celebrated. Here's what Esther 9:19, 22 says: "Therefore the Jews ... hold the 14th day of Adar as a day for gladness and feasting, as a holiday, and as a day on which they send gifts of food to one another.... as the days on which the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, days for sending gifts of food to one another, and gifts to the poor."

Christmas is such a holiday for us.  The birth of the Savior turned our mourning, our death sentence, into a continuous feast of gladness, an enthusiasm of life restored. We should celebrate -- like the Jews! And we do -- we take gifts of food to each other, all over town.

I came home from more shopping, to find a gorgeous chocolate pie on the counter, from my friend Mary.

(These were not a food gift, unless you could a gift from me to me, which Adam says does NOT count. But they were so pretty, I couldn't resist a photo.)

And our friends Barb and Ron dropped by with a huge container of hot cocoa mix and the most delectable lemon poppyseed cake imaginable. And I can imagine a lot.  It left a big butter spot on my counter when I set it down. Sigh....

So, Christians, your death sentence is removed! Christmas is our celebration day! Take some food to somebody!

From the Blogasbord

Good Morning!  Or as Julia said, Merry Christmas Eve Eve!

I had a few websites I thought you might enjoy, if you're already on vacation and looking for a something to read.

First, if you need a great Christmas treat, but can't seem to find a decent idea or recipe, check out Macheesmo's post.  Oh My!!  Sixty gorgeous pictures, and you can just drag your cursor over the pics and read what they are. Even if you DON'T need a recipe, it's fun to drool on your keyboard anyway.

Second, Ann Voskamp's post about the eclipse and the real hope of wise men, was particularly good. Both of these sites (for some reason) no longer update automatically on my Google Feed Reader, which is sad for me, but occasionally I remember to go over and check them out. Glad I did!

Third, on a more cultural note, this is an interesting article by Wolf Blitzer, about his recent trip to North Korea. He speaks more personally, emotionally, about the effect of his visit, and his concerns for the people. Worth reading, particularly if this corner of the world, with its sadness, is on your heart this year.

And, just because some of us are really bored, and need a little bizarre entertainment, here's a web article about how there were red-haired giants in North America long, long ago. Be sure to read the comments for a more balanced approach!

Once again, here's an article that boggles the mind -- Irish monks, in West Virginia, long before Leif Ericson or Columbus?  And they left Christmas greetings in a cave?  That coincide with the winter solstice so that we can appreciate them 1500 years later? If you're still interested, here's a more detailed assessment of the writing itself, from the same source.  I don't say whether I believe all this, but it's fun to imagine it might be valid.

And now, I have things to do.  Adam is making his caramel turtles today in the kitchen. Photo op. I thought I was done shopping, but I remembered that I forgot his stocking stuffers. And I need potatoes.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!!

Lost Things

"I salute you. There is nothing I can give you which you have not; but there is much that, while I cannot give you, you can take.
No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today:
Take heaven.
No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in the present:
Take peace.
The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy:
Take joy.
And so at this Christmas time I greet you, with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away."

~ Fra Giovanni Giocondo (1435?-1515), Italian Franciscan friar and scholar


How horrible to lose things! I’ve always fretted over any lost thing – even a scrap of paper, or a dollar, even if the thing itself is worthless or insignificant. It’s not the value that worries me; it’s the fact that things can get lost.

Because we’re not meant to lose things. To have something, or someone, near to you, and then have it, or him, stripped away – permanently stripped – is an evil thing. It’s a death. Once when I worked as a book-shelving supervisor in a library, I was told that a book misshelved was the same as a book lost. No one could ever find it. If something is lost, it is dead to us.

When I read of parents whose child has been kidnapped, and is gone for months or years, my heart aches and sorrows for them. Is there any worse loss? What about the death of a child? Would it be better to know the child is dead, and at least laid peacefully in earth, rather than to worry every hour if he’s suffering horrible pain? Hungry? Cold? Afraid?

Often on facebook, parents will note the anniversary of a child’s death. These are friends of mine. They usually express grief, longing, loss – but also some degree of trust and hope. I know they feel the gaping hole in their lives, the emptiness of years they expected to have with that child.

No one wants to sooth those wounds with platitudes. I usually remain silent. I’ve never lost a child. But I long to say – I long to say – that the child is not lost, not gone. You can know exactly where he is. You can be absolutely certain he is happy, care-for, loved. You can be sure that you will be with him again, and frankly it’s not many years away. I’ve never lost a child, but wouldn’t all those certainties remove a lot of the sense of losing someone?

Fra Giovanni’s letter (above) expresses that the joys of heaven and the joys of this earth are intricately connected. The soul-rest of heaven, its peace and joy, are all accessible to us here. We must take them, must grasp them, must believe they are ours. The child who LIVES, right now, with Jesus, is just as much alive as he was when he was here. He is no less himself. He remembers you. And if you had a child living in the middle of Siberia, whom you could never see again in this life because of distance or expense, the child in heaven is no more dead than he is. He is just somewhere else.

But I hesitate to say this. I don’t want it to sound cruel. Is it a platitude? I don’t know.

George MacDonald wrote a dear poem called “The Girl Who Lost Things,” in which he shows that all lost items are eventually reclaimed in heaven. And what is lovely about it is that he makes no huge divide between the losings of this life and the reclaimings of the next. When the girl died (or as MacDonald says, “lost the world, in a black and stormy wind) “she lost her losses, her aching and her weeping, her pains and griefs and crosses, and all things not worth keeping.” Some things that we'll lose at death are very good to lose.

And what did she find there? All the things of value that she’d lost on this fallen, sin-riddled planet. Those that we ache for, long for – would we bring them back here, only for our own heart’s ease? Would we return them from heaven to a place where so much evil needs to be lost, forever?

MacDonald’s advice to the girl? “Be patient till tomorrow; and mind you don’t beweep things that are not worth such sorrow; for the Father great of fathers, of mothers, girls, and boys, in his arms his children gathers, and sees to all their toys.”

God ensures that His children are not lost. That is the whole point of heaven, of the cross. When we mourn our loved ones as if they no longer exist, as if we cannot trust them in God’s hands, we misunderstand their state, and we misunderstand eternity.

If you have a loved one in heaven, be at peace this Christmas. They are found. The God who was willing for His own Son to be murdered in order to be reunited with His children, will not neglect to bring you together again, as soon as the time is perfect for it.