First, can we all agree that none of us has ever seen a completely accurate representation of the birth of Jesus?Secondly, is it understood that the actual date is an estimate, and really irrelevant?  Good. Now let's move on to a few of the really important (at least in my book) aspects of Christmas: love, hope and peace.  I'm not talking about the sentimental greeting card versions.  I'm talking about those qualities that most of us long for in ourselves and in others.

As I thought about and looked at various representations of the nativity, I thought about the Holy Family.  In Scripture, hymns, poems, etc., Jesus has been called all three, love, hope and peace. But, if He has to share the titles with his "parents", I think of Him as hope, hope of the world.  I've been teaching in catholic school this year, and they talk a lot about Mary.  Mary's love is stressed, her love for and obedience to God to do the unspeakable.  Poor Joseph, talk about obedience and trust, this guy is the prototype, but, when you look at most nativity scenes he looks peaceful.  Isn't that someplace we all want to get to, peace in knowing we have done God's will and that He is faithful?

I wonder, when you think about love, what do you think about? Is it that amazing, electrifying flame that ignites and unites you and your beloved?  Is it that unbreakable tether you've experienced in a parent and child relationship?  Have you seen love on the smudged and bloody faces of those who serve their fellowman, no matter how great the danger?  Do we dare to call it love when we see a homeless person share his morsel with his pet, or hear of an animal rescuing its master?  What does love look like, sound like, feel like, smell like, taste like to you?

What brings you hope?  Maybe it was growing up during the Great Depression, or enlisting before Pearl Harbor then serving for the duration, but Daddy was always reading or listening to the news.  My only nonspiritual rebellion in life has been to refrain from attending to depressing news.  This is what gives me hope: miles of headlights in my rear view mirror in early morning of  folks just going to work. College marching bands in bitter cold, who've spent time, effort and money to perform for crowds, who may use the time to hit the restrooms or concessions, give me hope. Seeing a stranger give an older person a place in the line at Wal-Mart, or offer a hand to the young mother with her flock gives me hope.  When you look around, what in our world gives you hope for tomorrow?

If you read my post, "Something to Hold in My Hands", you may recall that our first child died, and that our daughter, Mary, was born the week before Christmas.  For several reasons, my pregnancy with Mary was stressful. When I think of peace, the first place I go is the first time I held Mary in my arms, and knew that she was safe and whole.  Nothing can ever take that away from me.  When I think of peace, I drag myself through the hospital doors of an ICU unit where Mama laid, hooked up to all kinds of machines.  We were called back from a long-awaited trip so the doctors could "pull the plug". Walking in the door, it was easy to see how fretful Mama was.  I wrapped my arm up and around her head, put my lips by her ear and whispered, "It's okay, Mama.  If you want to go be with Daddy, we'll understand.  If you want to stay with us for a while longer, that's okay, too."  Mama immediately calmed down, and God's peace flowed through both of us.  What battle have you come through to find peace on the other side?

Dear Friends, yesterday I wrote that I hope each of you will have a special time with those you love doing what you enjoy doing during the holidays.  On the last post of the blogging challenge (yes, I lost a day somewhere), my greatest prayer for each of you is to experience hope, love and peace in new richer, deeper ways this holiday season.  I pray that your lives are infused with all that Jesus came to live and die to give you.  

Dear Readers, 
Thank you for letting me share with you this month. Now I am asking you to share.  With less than 24 hours left to fund the Kickstarter project to give books with a message of love, hope and forgiveness to kids who desperately need it, ONLY YOU can make this happen. Please prayfully click on the Kickstarter to make a pledge to reach out to "the least of these". 

If I could give every reader a holiday gift, it would be that you have the opportunities and resources to enjoy all the delights to the senses of a holiday date.  Not a holiday dinner, or holiday party, or religious service, especially not an office holiday party.  Those all have worth and value, but not like a holiday date.  Just you, the most important person/people in your life, at the location of your choice, and activities that you choose and enjoy.  Let me explain.

BK (before kids), Tom was working evenings at a feed mill.  That meant he always worked six evenings a week, with Sundays off occasionally.  There were even a couple of years when he had to work at least a half shift on Christmas Eve.  I don't tell you that for sympathy, only to set the stage.  

Since our time to "make merry" was extremely limited, we decided to start our own tradition.  If you've read many of my posts, you'll know that traditions are a big deal with me.  Shortly before Tom and I were married, Crown Center in Kansas City opened; it's kind of become "our place".  With enclosed, attached parking and three levels of shops, theaters and gorgeous Hallmark vistas, Crown Center is always a wonderful place to visit, and quickly became a venue of our holiday traditions.

When we began our holiday dates, our grocery store gave cash back for coupons.  So, about the first of September I started putting my coupon money in a special bank on the kitchen counter.  By mid-December we had a nice, little stash for our date.  Sometimes we went to a movie at one of the theaters in Crown Center, or if nothing was playing that we were interested in seeing, we'd go to a little fancier restaurant.

I think a person whose only sense that functioned properly was her sense of smell would still relish a holiday visit to Crown Center.  The rich deep aroma of fudge being stirred in a huge copper cauldron then poured onto a marble slab makes nostrils and taste buds come alive with anticipation.  The mixture of cinnamon and sweet on the roasting nuts at a kiosk would make my mouth would start watering as we pulled into the parking garage.

Carolers and choirs sharing their gifts of music in the food court welcomed visitors and employees. Displays of historical Saint Nicholas in the hotel lobby that begged you to sneak a quick stroke of their luxurious robes when security wasn't watching.  All senses go on full alert just anticipating the annual pilgrimage.  

Being a part of the Hallmark family, the decorations and embellishments somehow combine the lavish and outlandish without becoming tacky. I would love to be able to watch how the scenes and vignettes are designed and created.  Since I can't embed sounds and smells and touches, I hope the photos above give you an idea of the beauty we enjoy during our special time together.

When the kids came along we continued our Christmas date.  Up into their teens, we continued to go to Crown Center.  Then they decided it was time to branch out.  For them, branching out meant a movie (try finding any movie that appeals to mom and dad, one in high school, one in middle school, and one in preschool), dinner and a walk around the Plaza admiring the amazing Plaza lights.  Still fun, still with the people I loved most in the world, and still choosing for ourselves how to spend our holiday time together.

Alas, kids go to college, kids get married, kids move away.  We were actually able to hold onto our Christmas dates until after Annalyn was born.  When James became a director of worship arts in a Des Moines church, getting all of us together anytime during Advent was nearly impossible.  

Now our Christmas dates have returned to Crown Center, except now they are with our granddaughter, Annalyn.  Mary's birthday is December 18 and her husband's is the 29th.  Our gift to them is a gift to ourselves, a restaurant gift certificate, and a weekend for Annalyn with Grandpa and Allie.  She thinks our Christmas date is magical, and that's the gift she gives to us.  Whether it's eating her favorite chicken nuggets delivered by a miniature train set, gazing at the amazing "gingerbread" village or the huge trees, or listening to carols, horseshoes clopping in time with their jingle bells, Annalyn is thrilled, and so are we. This year we are looking forward to including baby sister, Adrienne (Gracie).  

Where do you most enjoy going during the holiday season?  Who do you most enjoy going with? What do you look forward to during the holiday season?

I hope my daughter, Mary, reads this post.  Not because her darling daughter, Annalyn, is featured in two out of five favorite senses, but so she can see me publicly admit that she was right.  Right about what?  Mary was right about how writing and posting for 30 or 31 days can be challenging.  I jumped in with both feet, but forgot about little things like parent/teacher conferences that cut into my blogging time.  

Since most/all the folks in and near my corner of the world are probably watching the Royals hopefully win the World Series tonight, I'm not going to feel too badly about posting later than usual.  My apologies if you hail from the Golden State, some other continent or planet.  At any rate, thanks for stopping by and checking out my personal winners of the best sensory images of the season.

Exodus 15:2  Easy-to-Read Version (ERV)
2 The Lord is my strength. He saves me,and I sing songs of praise to him.[a]   He is my God, and I praise him.

When James began piano lessons in 2nd grade, it was probably no surprise that his favorite songs were Christmas carols.  I love Christmas music!  My radio dial is turned in the first day those hymns and jingles hit the airwaves.  If I were to name my top 10 songs, I'm betting at least two would be Christmas songs.  I hope the songs in the air put a song in your heart.

I'm totally the 'decorate early, start listening to Christmas songs super early' guy. I've just always been that way.   
                                                                                                                                                             Drake Bell

Isaiah 9:6  American Standard Version (ASV)
6 For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

I think this picture of our own little Santa Baby is adorable, but then I think the looks on the faces of children, especially my own of course, as they discover the wonders of Christmas must be my most favorite sight of the holiday season.  You can't manufacture that, and you certainly can't put a price on it.  

There's probably a lot of folks out there who choose to live without children in their lives.  For most of the calendar year, I get that. Kids complicate our lives, that's for sure. But whether I'm out and about, or with our family, looking at those amazing expressions, I just don't understand how anyone would want to pass up on the pure joy.  Who's face do you see when you think about your favorite sight of the holidays?

Nothing I've ever done has given me more joys and rewards than being a father to my children.
                                                                                                                                                          Bill Cosby

Song of Solomon 6:11  American Standard Version (ASV) 11 I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the green plants of the valley, To see whether the vine budded, And the pomegranates were in flower.  (Who knew there was a verse about nuts in the Bible?)

Since I've already regaled you about Daddy's ambrosia, I tried to find a picture.  Suffice it to say, ambrosia is in the taste of the partaker.  That's okay, because pecan pie is a very close second runner up in my favorite taste of the season.  Pecans may be good for you in moderation, but you wrap them up in all that sugar, corn syrup, and eggs, and it is nothing but guilty pleasure.  

So the pie isn't perfect? Cut it into wedges. Stay in control, and never panic.           Martha Stewart

Matthew 19:13-14   Easy-to-Read Version (ERV)
13 Then the people brought their little children to Jesus so that he could lay his hands on them to bless them and pray for them. When the followers saw this, they told the people to stop bringing their children to him. 14 But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me. Don’t stop them, because God’s kingdom belongs to people who are like these children.”

My favorite touch in the whole wide world is the touch of the ones I love most in the world.  Is there anything sweeter than those tiny fingers wrapped around yours, eyes wide with trust and expectation?  If you think that's mushy, you should see my whole family when we get together, all kinds of hugging and kissing, and not just on the little ones!

My dearest prayer for each of you is that you have felt the touch of the Babe in a manger.  I pray that your eyes have widened in trust, expectation and amazement at the gift He came to offer to each of us, and reached out to hold onto the hand He's stretching out to you.

Hold puppies, kittens, and babies anytime you get the chance.                       H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

I think family Christmas trees tell a story, or maybe several stories.  Growing up in pine country, we always had a real tree.  All I remember being on them was glass bulbs and multi-colored lights.  Maybe not fancy, but in a little girl's eyes, they were always beautiful.

When Tom and I married, we hadn't committed to real or fake, so we went with real for a while, mostly looking like Charlie Brown's.  The best one was the one Tom and our brother-in-law, Darrell, cut on what Darrell thought was his uncle's farm.  Not sure of the whole story but it did involve barbed wire and lots of running.

We live in the Kansas City area so the turning on of the Plaza lights on Thanksgiving night is a big deal.  Under duress, Tom and I have fought the crowds (which he absolutely hates) to see a 20 second event.  Now we skip the big show, and take a leisurely stroll or drive through when there's fewer folks around.

Other than the few Plaza lighting ceremonies, community lightings haven't really been part of our holidays.  Our community pleasure has been participating in Hanging of the Greens in our local church: no crowds, but lots of fellowship.  There are few things better than singing Christmas carols with people you know and enjoying the warm and sweet culinary delights of the church ladies.

Our dad's birthday was December 13.  Before Tom and I had kids, when my sister's were toddlers and preschoolers, we would pick them up on the Sunday closest to the 13th to go decorate Granny and Granddaddy's Christmas tree.  Mama cooked, Daddy supervised, Tom, the kids and I decorated the tree. Meanwhile my sister, Nancy, and brother-in-law went Santa shopping.

It was a great arrangement.  Birthday, holidays and Mama's cooking!  We didn't know for several years that after we all left, Daddy always wanted to rearrange the ornaments so they weren't clumped in one spot, near the bottom.  Mama wouldn't let him, saying that was her measuring stick for how tall the kids were getting, not to mention they were sure to notice the moves when we all came for Christmas Day.

I absolutely laugh out loud when I think about our early Charlie Brown trees.  I feel like a negligent parent when I think about our trips to tree farms for real trees, not realizing how allergic Mary was to them.  So now, we have artificial trees, yes, two.  The living room tree is the "fancy" tree, everything matches.  That's where the family presents go (remember, the ones that have to coordinate with the room decor?), and the one that's decorated for my extended family's Thanksgiving dinner.

Our family tree goes in the dining room.  As you can see, this tree is a lot more colorful with mismatched ornaments, homemade, gifts, ornament of the year for Tom and I .  The three kids got their ornaments a few years ago, but somehow the tree still looks pretty full.  A new tradition has evolved.  Now, Annalyn comes for a weekend just before Christmas, and she started helping to decorate the family tree a couple of years ago.  

Over the years, our Christmas trees have changed in appearance but each one has had its pleasures of sight, sound, touch and even smell.  Most importantly, for us, Christmas trees represent what we love the most: the birth of our Savior, our family and our home.

What's your family's preference, real or artificial?  What kinds of bulbs and ornaments do you like, matching or coordinated?  Who decorates your tree, and when do they decorate?

There are a great many things that remind me that I haven't been a young person for a while.  One is a vivid memory of the summer before I started school.  In those days, if you caught the measles, the doctor advised staying in a darkened room for about two weeks.  In those days, we didn't have tv in every room, no DVR or DVD player, no computers, tablets or video games.  Very little to entertain a five year old.

Thankfully, Mama's stepmother was very proud of the new hi-fi (stereo) my grandfather had recently bought for her.  She was more than happy to give up her portable record player.  Whether by design or default, she only included two 45 rpm records: "Big, Bad John" by Jimmy Dean, and "Silver Bells" by Bing Crosby.  To this day, those songs are a couple of my favorites.  Whenever I hear "Silver Bells", I stop what I am doing to remember. With just a few notes and lyrics,  I'm transported back to that summer, enjoying having the bedroom to myself and lots of Mama's attention.

To Mama, "Silver Bells" had an entirely different meaning.  For some reason, Mama called Hershey kisses 'silver bells'.  Nobody else we knew called them that, but when Mama said she needed to get some 'silver bells' for her ceramic Christmas tree, we knew what she was talking about.  The lady who cleaned Daddy's office gave Mama the tree, just like the one pictured above, one year.  We never did figure out where Mama kept her stash of 'silver bells'. Even though no one seemed to go by the dish with getting one or two or a handful, the dish always seemed to be full.

I never was too fond of the ceramic tree filled with "silver bells" because that started after we moved up north, and after Mama had stopped making her signature chocolate-covered cherries.  The combination seemed a poor replacement of a family project.  I guess after years of being the one to make and take, Mama deserved to be the receiver and take life a little easier.

Pretty soon the grandkids came along.  As soon as they came in the door during the holiday season, they went to the dining room table where the tree and bells sat in the middle.  Once the grandkids came along, Mama decided the red and green wrapped Hershey kisses would look better than the "silver bells".  So, one holiday tradition gave way to a new one.

I'm a big fan of traditions, I think they're important.  I thought they were before I read a few articles written by family counselors/therapists/experts saying the same thing.  After our family of five moved to Kansas, the holidays were kind of sad and lonely for several years.  It wasn't until my older sister and her husband began their family that I realized sometimes you have to start traditions on purpose.

Shared traditions and shared memories seem to be the glue that hold families together.  Whether it's a song that makes you look at each and smile, those special treats that trigger a mellow mood, that place or activity that's always on the holiday list, those memories and traditions seem to act as springboards to making new ones.

What are some of the unique ways your family celebrate each other and the holiday season?  Have any of them changed over the years?

So many reasons to be thankful, like this great refreshment table James put together for our celebration!  It was a feast for the taste buds and for the eyes.  Good thing I took the picture before the guests arrived since they seemed to enjoy partaking.  Tom and I were thankful to be able to give back a little to some of the folks who have been supporting us in the adventure of publishing and sharing Life with Bobby and Bonnie.

I wish you could have seen our living room during the celebration!  On one end the guys were cheering on the Royals.  On the other were several friends from my teaching days.  While the guys were cheering on the home team, my "homies" and I were swapping stories from the trenches. Thankfully, Annalyn was distracted enough by the ballgame, that she didn't hear most of the stories of desperation of the children and families we serve, like the 6 year old girl who was gunned down at the 7-11 down the street as her father watched. That's kind of how life is, isn't it?  Family and friends sharing good times and not so good times.  

Thanks to all those who joined us last night, and to the many folks who visited on the blog.  Nearly 200 visitors...woo hoo!  I hope you'll keep coming back.  The 31 Days blogging challenge is coming to an end, but not 'David's Daughter'.  Anything goes after Friday.

The end of this week also concludes our Kickstarter project.  With only 5 days to go, we are a very long way from making our goal.  After 10 years of God breaking my heart with students who live, and die, lives are turmoil and devastation, sharing books with a message of love, hope and forgiveness is the only way I know to help.  I need backers so we can purchase books to give to kids, sharing in small groups of at risk kids.  Let me introduce you to a few of them.

DaJuan was a quiet, talented and funny sophomore when I met him at the alternative school.  At least most of the time.  Sometimes, after being beaten with an umbrella or broom by his grandmother, he had some anger issues.  After being forced out of his mother and grandmother's house, DaJuan stayed with friends. For reasons none of the staff could imagine, while enrolled in our program, DaJuan's mom had a "contract" put out on him.  Thanks to our principal and advocate, he was placed somewhere safe, while a reconciliation was worked on.

Then there was my 3rd grade student, Davonna, who was new to our school that year.  Not only did she come to school several times with unexplained bruises, her mom showed up to parent/teacher conferences with a black eye, bruises and an outlandish story.   We learned over the course of the year, that Davonna had been sexually assaulted several times, but someone in her home world. During reading table time, she would sit as close to me as she could and play with my bracelets. I don't know if I was more devastated or thankful when Davonna died at the end of the school year from complications to meningitis.  Because I believe in a God who loves children, I also believe His rescued Davonna from a life of desperation.

I could tell you about the middle school siblings, whose dad locked the door if they were not in the house at 9:00 p.m., no matter what the reason, forcing them to find shelter and food where they could.  I could tell you about the little boy who was the family thief.  Mom was happy when she showed up to relieve him of the $50 he had stolen at school.  After spending the rest of the school year in participating in an alternative program.  Returning to his home school this fall, he attacked a teacher.

The stories go on and go.  So many kids looking for something better. Every teacher I have worked with has an arsenal of students who have seen and experienced things that should never be a part of a child's world.   

Stories about a pair of bunnies may not seem like a big deal.  Somebody taking the time to come read one of the stories to them, and then giving them their own book to take home is.  I can't reach out to kids without your help.  There's only 5 days, including Sunday, to support outreach to at risk kids.  Please click on the Kickstarter button on the top right for more information, and prayerfully consider supporting our project.

Tonight I'm excited to be able to celebrate the release of my first book, Life with Bobby and Bonnie (Tales of the Hood through the Eyes of the Wood), with some of my family and friends.  I want to tell them what a huge impact they had on the writing of this book, and how much I appreciate their generosity.

Tom and the kids have each contributed in their unique ways. My sister, Nancy, has bragged, bought the very first copy and generously pledged to the Kickstarter project.  To date, my Kickstarter supporters have all been sisters, of one kind or another, Janetta, April, Annie, all amazing women. My principal, Rhonda, caught my vision and encouraged me to pursue my God-sized dream.  Lots of generous folks that I just can't thank enough.

So, tonight we're having a party.  Isn't Pinterest a wonderful thing?  Since event planning seems to run in our family, James made short work of using Pinterest to create a menu fit for our Bunny friends.  Being a perfectionist also seems to run in our family, so I get permission before getting near his work space.

Guess there was no way I could mess up the large marshmallow "bunny tails", but finding pink jelly beans wasn't as easy as finding the super big marshmallows.  Had to settle for pink gumballs for the "bunny noses".  I'm thinking the hard gumball shells will be a good contrast to the soft marshmallows. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Turkey and cheese on baguette with honey mustard is a bit out of my league, so I'm relegated to just cooking the turkey. Thought about slicing the cheese, but didn't think I better risk it.  I did get brave and made the goldfish cones.  Aren't those just the cutest things!  Think if we do those again  for some reason, the smaller cones would be better; the larger ones held about two cups of goldfish.
So, we've got salty and sweet, healthy and not so much, hot, cold, soft and not so soft.  Think the food is covered. 
 
Annalyn and I grooved to a little old-fashioned rock 'n roll while dusting and polishing yesterday. Cleaning smells are emanating from the bathroom telling me Tom's doing a deep down, don't touch anything clean.  Gotta love a man who's willing to clean the bathroom?  One more vacuum, then time to set up the dining room.

Big competition tonight with our hometown Royals up 2 games to 1 in the World Series.  Game time at 7:00.  Book Party may turn into Baseball Party, and that's okay.  Family, friends and food are always a good competition!  Better get back to work; wouldn't want Tom to think he's on his own.  

Aren't gift bags wonderful!  I could just hug whoever came up with the idea.  Now anyone can make a gift look attractive in less than two minutes.  Maybe like some of you, we have a storage box with special occasion gift bags under one bed, and a larger box filled with holiday bags under another bed.  And of course, it's good for the environment and the pocketbook that gift bags are versatile and frequently reusable.

But come Christmas, I've come full circle back to wrapping paper.  And not just any wrapping paper.  My paper of choice is Hallmark, partly because it's sturdy, which is important in a household of cats.  The patterns are wonderful, too, but the big selling point for me is the grid on the back.

I'm going to blame this particular fetish on my brother-in-law, Rick.  In Tom's family, his mom and siblings have always said they can tell if a gift is from Rick because of how beautifully wrapped it is, homemade bows and all.

I don't consider myself especially competitive (except when it comes to my kids), but I'd hate for our gifts to be an embarrassment either. When I discovered gorgeous, sturdy holiday paper with grid lines on the back, I thought I'd hit pay dirt!  If my gift wrapped packages weren't the most lavish, at least they could be neat.

Tom used to be the gift wrapper in the family.  Somehow that task has moved to me.  (Don't worry, that meant he's had to take over the Christmas cards.  Wait a minute, we've gradually had more gifts to wrap and fewer cards to send.  Maybe I need to rethink this.)  Our dining room table grows to its full seven foot length for Thanksgiving and stays there until New Year's.  From the first of December until Christmas week, there's paper and tissue and bows and tags and even a few gift bags perched on the extra chairs and the table so I can wrap whenever I have a few minutes.  

Just to cinch the deal that I tend to be a tad OCD, when we changed our living room to a blue and brown palette, I thought the packages under the tree should match.   Easier said than done.  I even tried using rolls of mail wrapping paper, you know, the stiff nondescript brown stuff.  With blue ribbon, they looked fine, but without the grid, it just wasn't worth it. 

After getting the living room tree, with all it's coordinated bulbs and ornaments, going with the color coordinated gifts, I get to relax and wrap for the dining room tree.  I briefly thought having two full sized trees was extravagant, until I thought about our friends who put up seven trees each year!  Our dining room tree is the family tree, with homemade, hand-me-down, collector ornaments.  After the kids took their growing up ornaments, I started filling the holes with apples and red plaid ribbons.  All-in-all, it's quite colorful, which means there's no coordinating of packages.  The only thing they have in common is grid lines.

With all the planning and preparation, gatherings and goodies to make, anything that saves time and effort is aces with me.  As crazy as it sounds, wrapping paper grid lines help me feel a bit more in control during a hectic time of year.  What are some of the ways you've discovered or tried to save time, effort, or money to make the holiday season more enjoyable for you?

Have I mentioned my family comes from the South?  Ok, maybe once or twice, or a dozen times.  But for me it drives a lot of who I am, what I do, and what I expect.  Maybe because our holidays have morphed so much in the five decades since moving "up north", I tend to go back to what I happily remember about Christmas.

First of all, living in pine country, we always had a real tree.  The box of glass ornaments and lights lived in the storage area that formed the base of our couch (maybe a forerunner of the futon).  Since our climate didn't demand central heating, like most of the houses we knew, ours didn't have a fireplace, so no stockings for us.  To an onlooker, our simple tree and the lack of festooning, may have made our home seem a little stark or sad.  But for me, it wasn't!  It was the place where I felt safe and loved, and that was enough.

Growing up, we lived in a really small town.  The town was so small that when Daddy's job took him on the road with our only vehicle, Mama was able to walk wherever she needed to go.  One of Mama's holiday traditions was making chocolate covered cherries.  Not the kind you buy in a box. These were pounds and pounds of powdered sugar combined with pounds of butter and pecans. You used your thumb to make a dent to put the half of a maraschino cherry inside before rounding it into a ball.  Then we stuck toothpicks in each one so Mama could dip them into chocolate.  This seemed to go on for weeks.  Mama made her famous cherries, then when Daddy came home, us kids took turns going with Mama in the car to deliver them to all of our friends, neighbors and church family.  It was great!  I can still feel the weight of the pie tin filled with those heavenly cherries on my lap, with cold fingers and toes because our car didn't have any heat, as I rode with Mama.

I've tried and tried but truly can't remember much of what we had for Christmas dinner.  Probably included pork of some kind, probably some greens of some kind, cakes of numerous kinds, and always, always (at least in my memory) Daddy's ambrosia.  Besides being on the road so much of the time, Daddy grew up thinking that his place was not in the kitchen, usually.  

No clue where Daddy learned to make ambrosia, but I can still see him sitting at the end of the dining room table, dress shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows. peeling and mushing oranges.  He'd tell Mama if it was a good batch of oranges or if the ambrosia was going to need a spoon of sugar.  That smell lingers in my nostrils, just as it did while I hung over the table as close as Daddy would let me. Into the mushed oranges, went handfuls of pecans, raisins and coconut.  Ahhh, ambrosia, food of the gods.

As if all the heavenly concoctions were not enough sugar in our holiday diets, on Christmas morning, beside our gifts from Santa was a plate.  On the plate was an orange, mixed nuts in the shells, and ribbon candy.  No candy canes, no peppermint, just ribbon candy.  And it didn't matter if we knew it would be there, the plate of treats was new and glorious every year!

I hope you have lots of vibrant holiday memories that bring you joy.  I pray for the ones you have shared those memories with and the ones you are making new memories with.  When the decorations are put away, and all the leftovers are eaten, when the amazing, you've-got-to-have-it whatcamacallit is in the closet or already broken and in the trash, it's those memories that keep us coming back for more year after year, aren't they?

My life has been blessed, as I hope yours has, too, with a few people who have either had a powerfully positive impact, or who drifted in and out at just the right time with the grace I needed most.  The former is my Camp Fire Girl leader, Mrs. Helen Bishop.  For over seven years, Mrs. Bishop taught us all kinds of homemaking, camping and life skills.  When we reached middle school, she enrolled us in a charm school course.  Yes, charm school!  Mrs. Bishop also took us to a Red Cross first aid class, and for a couple of years we went to a ceramics class as a group.

Mrs. Pearl Frerking owned the shop and studio where we took ceramics.  If Pearl had been a man, I would probably describe her as an old codger.  She usually had a cigarette in her hand, with voice and words as scratchy as sandpaper.  I think we were all a little scared of her.

I was never as good as the other girls in my group, but it was still fun to work with green ware and glazes while we wondered and wandered through adolescence into young adulthood.  Several girls in my Camp Fire group spent an entire year cleaning and painting nativity sets in detail.  Pearl and I silently agreed that probably wasn't a good choice for me. At least not then. Several years later, a nativity set allowed Pearl to be a messenger of grace to me.

I love the holidays!  I love the sights and sounds and smells, the textures and tastes!  But I've learned that the holidays are not happy for everyone.  The year America celebrated her bicentennial, Tom and I were excitedly expecting our first child.  Our baby was due the first part of February, so Christmas cards went out letting friends and family know about our great expectation.  But things don't always go as we hope and plan. Our son lived only a few hours due to a congenital birth defect.  
I'm not sure what made me stop into Pearl's shop that summer, several years after taking a class, but it seemed like a good idea.  My friend, Karen, agreed to go to classes with me once a week.  For several weeks I worked on a few simple pieces.  Then Pearl intervened, and asked if I'd be interested in doing a nativity set. Actually, she wouldn't take no for an answer.  Pearl told me not to worry about detail, I could do an antiquing glaze.  What about the gold accents?  If I wanted her to, Pearl offered to paint those for me. 

We were never sure what loss Pearl had experienced, but there was something.  Sometimes a little sadness would slip out unexpectedly.  Whatever it was, Pearl knew the upcoming Christmas was going to be a hard one for me.  So, she put something in my hands to work on.  She made sure I would be successful, and she made sure the nativity set was finished by Christmas.  Pearl kept me focused and productive, and helped me create something lovely and tangible, something to hold in my hand.

I won't lie and say making the nativity set took away all the hurt of not sharing Christmas with our first child, but I will say it helped.  I surprised my mom with the set as her gift that year.  I know it meant as much to her as it did to me because it was always displayed in a place of honor in her home.  When Mama passed, it came to me.

The nativity set has been displayed for nearly forty Christmases.  I like the way it looks on our mantel. And every year when I gently unwrap the pieces I think about Pearl and Mrs. Bishop, and thank God for people who allow themselves to bring hope and comfort and reassurance to others when they need it most.

By the way, as hard as that Christmas was, the next one will probably always be one of my favorite ones.  Our daughter, Mary, was born on December 18, and we came home from the hospital on Christmas Day to families with open arms and open hearts, and more than a little thankfulness for this new life.