Ignorant Historian

Christmas is filled with fun times with the friends you care the most about.

This is not Christmas.

Christmas is cozing up with your family by the fire.

This is not Christmas.

Christmas is finally being free of the bonds of schoolwork.

This is not Christmas.

Christmas is a home decorated in tinsel and green.

This is not Christmas.

Christmas is a mailbox full of Christmas cards.

This is not Christmas.

Christmas is the celebration of God humbling himself, taking on the flesh of sinful man, being born a baby.  The greatest gift I could ask for on this or any holiday.  The incarnation that made our salvation possible.

Indeed, this is Christmas.

Photo by funkyshapes

I can’t believe it’s December.  Like, really.  Last night I thought, “I’ll get a haircut in November or December” thinking that was a long time away.  Now that it IS December, I have no idea when I’d have time for a haircut!

December is always my favorite month, probably because my birthday (the 15th…you still have time to buy me a gift and stick it in the mail ;) ).  I’ve always been a huge Christmas fan, but I haven’t really felt the Christmas spirit this year.  I’ve been dutiful in planning Christmas presents (ordered the first ones in the wee hours when I was avoiding going to bed), but not in writing Christmas cards or decorating.  Still not sure either of those are going to happen.  We’ll see.

I’ve been struggling with a cough since a couple of days before Turkey, and finally decided enough was enough.  I could tolerate it enough for a while, but it’s starting to head south, and the last time I let it, I ended up with bronchitis.  I know something is wrong when I can hear myself breathing in my headphones and they’re not attached to a stethoscope.  (on a totally random note, I don’t think I’ve ever written that word…it’s kinda funny looking!)  I have an appointment to see a PA this afternoon and feel incredibly grownup…usually I have to go to urgent care because I don’t know where else to go (and I’ve always had insurance, it’s just my patheticness).  I’m determined to find a primary care doctor now, though.  I’ll see if I like the office I’m visiting today.

So, to complete this randomness, what are you looking forward to most this month?

Well I made it through NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) this November, which seemed like the shortest month ever.  I suppose it helps when you spend have of it away from home, huh?

Looking back, it was a good month.  I got to spend time in the country I love and with people that I love.  Sure, I saw emotions deeper than I’ve ever felt, and through some hard personal times, but I believe I’ve grown through those times and am better prepared for adversity in the future.  Through it all, there WERE blessings upon blessings, and I’m incredibly thankful.

So now we can look forward to December.  Only a couple of weeks until my birthday, and then after that there’s Phantom, a few days with a good friend in Texas, and then some great time with the family.  It’s bound to be another fast month!

Christmas isn’t about presents.

No need to get frustrated at the traffic or the fact that they store is out of the only item you wanted.

No need to worry about not being able to give your family as much as you have in years past.

The greatest gift you can give is your time and attention.  Don’t lose that in all the “packages, boxes, and bags!”

Photo by lechampiondumonde.com

I thank God He’s given me food on my table in abundance.

I thank God that He’s given me family and friends who love me and show me more grace than I deserve.

I thank God for giving us quick travel that I may visit my family who’s over 1,000 miles away on this day.

I thank God for giving me not only a well-paying job in these times, but a job that I like.

I thank God for allowing me to be part of a church who, though not perfect, is seeking to grow together towards christlikeness.

Most of all, I thank God for giving His Son to save a wretch like me.

So happy Thanksgiving, and remember to thank God for the many blessings he’s given you…no matter how many or how few, they’re more than we deserve.

Photos by CarbonNYC, Julie McLeod,  aka Kath, me, Phillie Casablanca, and DrGBB

Thanksgiving meal with people I love

(though I could say the same thing when I have Thanksgiving with my family later this week!)

A Halloween Well Spent Serving Others

I don’t like Halloween.

I stopped Trick or Treating at 10.  I realized I could have more fun handing out candy at the door, and could still get the chocolate I wanted from my brother’s Trick or Treat pumpkin (he couldn’t have it…it wasn’t like I was stealing it).  I also realized that if I didn’t go by people’s houses, they wouldn’t feel compelled to try to scare me.

I think the people-jumping-out-at-you part is one of the major reasons I don’t like this holiday.  I just don’t get how that could be fun.  I actually dislike the whole concept so much, that I refuse to play hide-and-go-seek with any kids I babysit.

Another reason I dislike Halloween is the raunchiness of it.  In college, it seemed like Halloween was just an excuse to dress up extra-raunchy before getting wasted.  Somehow, that’s not appealing to me in the least bit.

Then there’s the whole darkness of Halloween: the witches, the ghosts, the ghouls.  Since I don’t think such things exist, I guess I just miss the point.

So, while others might enjoy the holiday, I must say that I just don’t get it.  That’s why Saturday night the only reason I’m going out is to serve the children at our church’s Halloween alternative.

Celebrating Independence Day by myself…relaxing.

Today’s Friday, and not just any Friday, the Friday before a holiday weekend.  For many, that means that today is unofficially a holiday too.

In other words, anything I say today will more likely be read by the rats and cockroaches skittering over sticky keyboards (not yours, mind you) than real, live human beings.

Still, I want to share a story.  A story about what I remember of Memorial Day growing up.  Because my parents’ anniversary is May 30th, my brother and I were usually shipped off to spend the holiday at my mom’s mom’s house, who we call G. Zoe.  She got that name because I couldn’t say “granny” when I was little and was smart enough to know “granny” started with “G.”  Okay, obviously not, but someone apparently prompted me to call her “G. Zoe” instead of the harder “Granny Zoe.”

I loved those long weekends visiting G. Zoe.  It was just me, my brother, and our cousin Ben hanging out in a house full of treasures from years gone by.  Ben’s between my brother, Riley, and I in age (and Riley and I are only 19 months apart), so there was much fun to be had.

I remember digging around in the backyard, finding bits of fishing gear from my mom’s childhood (or earlier) in the dirt of what was once the floor of a shed.  I remember sitting on that small town front porch next to hens and chicks with a notebook in hand, tallying the number of cars that drive by in each color, waving at the strangers inside.  I remember sitting around the kitchen table, eating toast made with a smiley face imprint.

I could go on, naming a dozen other memories from those weekends with G. Zoe.  I’m thankful for those tastes of life in a smaller town.  But more importantly, I’m thankful for having those precious memories with 3 grandparents, 3 grandparents that I still make memories with today.  Being the oldest granddaughter definitely has its perks.