Writing the Annual Christmas Letter

I made a vow to start this blessed letter early... so for the past two weeks I have been in the draft mode of our annual Christmas letter. My husband likes to remind me that NO ONE reads it anyway. My daughter doesn't know the letter exists (although she is working on her epistle to Santa as we speak).

Sigh. The problem this year is that we have been too boring for even a pumped up, friendly Christmas letter. No fabulous vacations, or prizes. No drama, or disasters. All we have done this year is pay off debt and get excited about that. Who wants to hear about that as a yultide treat?!

Maybe this year I will actually lie. Fabricate the truth a bit. Create a Sim-life like those folks who play computer games as their reality world.

Problem is, I am not very good at lying.

Hurry up and wait!

Advent is less than two weeks away! Eegads- there is much to do, decorate, bake, prepare, write, address and stamp and gather which is all very ironic.

Irony stems from the fact that the season of Advent is supposed to be about, inspire, and call us to celebrate a time of waiting. Just waiting. Waiting. Waiting in expectation. Waiting with anticipation. Waiting with hope. Waiting with promise. But simply waiting.

So, why all the fuss? Why the busyness? Why the lengthy to-do lists?

For one thing our culture doesn't breed the practice of waiting. We want stuff and want it last week. Now. Now. Now. Immediate satisfaction and stimulation is the brand of our living and breathing today.

So, if you want to do something radical this Advent and want to join a revolution, or if you'd like to make a change in your life and our world- then join me in waiting. Stop. Sit. Wait.

Wait with all the busyness in the world. Wait with all the pain and sorrow. Wait with all the despair and hopelessness. Wait. Listen. Breathe.

We may just hear the still small voice... of Someone who has been waiting for us to slow down.

Fences

I have a thing for old things like black and white photos, rundown barns, and leaning fences. This fetish for broken, lopsided stuff completely goes against my neat and tidy cleaning philosophy.

This photo was taken during my "I- am- going- to- be- a- brilliant- photographer" days (which was prior to having a child and a dog. This was the time period when I had hobbies.) The day had been spent hiking through the 200 plus acres of my grandparents farm snapping photos all day. Trying to be artsy. Trying to preserve the scenery. Trying simply to enjoy the sights, smells and sounds of the landscape.

You don't have to like this photo, but I do. Maybe I am drawn to the leaning fence because I realize how much I lean with all the weights of my world. Or I feel tangled up in all the snarly weeds of life. Or I want to keep stuff in or keep stuff out of my life. Whatever the reason, I am drawn to this fence...

Want to sing a round of "Don't Fence me in..."?

Here He Is

Here he is in all his wet, muddy glory! Our Duke, pup! I thought after several blogs about him, you'd want to see him.

Labs were made for the water and this dog was born for it. Pictured here he has just swam for the first time in my Auntie's lake...

Handsome, yet messy.

Ah... the life of a dog is easy when the water is cool and wet!

Meaning of Lost, Found

At our house lives a girlie girl who is very concerned about lip gloss, dress up, fanciness, and anything princess- so imagine with me the emotional turmoil at the grocery checkout line two weeks ago. There with the contents of our cart pilled onto the conveyer belt we discovered that her purse was missing!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tears the size of Lake Michigan fell upon her cheeks! Loud shrieks of"Where is it?" "What happened?" "I want my PURSE!" could be heard in aisle 47 (at the back of the store). And this following discussion could be heard by all checkout lanes...

"Momma, where is my purse?

"I don't know sweetie. It must be lost."

"But, Momma, I want my purse. Where is it?"

"Honey, that is what lost means- we don't know where it is."

After paying for our things we stopped by the Customer Service to leave information about the missing purse (cost originally $3, half used package of tissues $.89, and tube of very used lip gloss, $.98, but meaning and significance priceless!) along with of course, our phone number.

The ride home and next two days were filled with mourning and gloom. But brightness dawned when a message on our answering machine announced that the purse had indeed been lost and now was found!

We loaded up the car and rushed to the store! A huge smile appeared on my daughter's face as the staff handed her the M.I.A purse! Whew- life could continue again because this was the favorite of all the dress up purses (and we have a dozen)!

Sigh. Nice to know that customer service and common courtsey still exist!

Thanks, Wal-Mart!

Crop Circle on Church Lawn?

For those of you who spotted the white etching on the would-be-grass near our fellowship hall this weekend, no, it is not a crop circle left by aliens.

What you are seeing is a classical labyrinth temporarily painted with ball paint (which will fade quickly with rain, snow, sleet, dew etc.). Saturday one of our ladies who has accomplished some training as a labyrinth facilitator presented a workshop on labyrinths. And this temporary outdoor path was created for folks to walk, pray and reflect upon.

(Sounds like a great way to prepare to vote!)

So, stop calling the church office about those crazy crop circles. What we have here is an ancient tool of prayer on our lawn not some bizarre creation from the movie, Signs!

Vote!

It is voting time! Gotta go see how long the line is for me to vote today. My hubbie had to wait 90 minutes! Whew- maybe I'll take a snack!

Voting, I go!