The snow is swirling.  The windows are rattling.  And I am sipping a late-night cocoa to pass the time.  I should definitely be reveling in sweet beauty rest, but the promise of an old-fashioned Iowa blizzard makes me giddy to say the least.  

Sleep eludes me. 

Last winter thoroughly disappointed.  I am glad this year she has decided to redeem herself.  And before Christmas of all things.

It is our first winter here on the homestead.  And, of course, our first big snow.  I am curious how long it will take our lonely stretch of road to be plowed.  I can imagine the snow drifts will be deliciously unrivaled.  My camera is eager and ready.

(A flashback from last year’s winter:  Bring it on.)  

The girls are delightfully snug in their beds and undoubtedly dreaming of snow angels and hot cocoa.  The anticipation of such a lovely snow day is rich and welcome.  (Although a trifle unnerving, given my current physical condition.) 

Peaceful.  Quiet.  Still.  

A Silent Night.  

It happens to be their favorite.  The princesses three ask me to sing it nearly every night.  Year-round.  Christmas.  July.  Spring.  Whenever.  

“Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin, mother and child.
Holy infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.”

And it’s even prettier in it’s native German…

“Stille nacht, heilege nacht
Alles schlaft, einsam vacht.
Nur das traute hoch heilege par.
Alder knabe im lockigen har.
Schlaft in himmlischer rue.
Schlaft in himmlischer rue.” 

And since the lights are beginning to flicker, and I can barely hold open these sleepy eyes a moment longer, and a fantastical Winter Wonderland awaits me in the morning… I shall draw this day to a close.

Sleep in heavenly peace…

Love & Coffee.

“Keep Christ in Christmas.  Happy Holidays!”

That’s what the marquee down the main street in town says.  Seriously.  Does that seem strange to anyone else?  I mean, I am all for celebrating Jesus, but to me this seems like an interesting (and probably well-meaning) attempt at political correctness.  I guess that after scrolling through that leading intro, I was expecting… something else.

Sometimes I say “Merry Christmas.”  And sometimes I do say, “Happy Holidays.”  I might even utter the occasional “Season’s Greetings,” too.  (gasp!)  I don’t exactly understand why some people get so up-in-arms about that.  After all, we just gorged ourselves at Thanksgiving.  And New Year’s is just around the corner.  There will be others celebrating various holidays in between, and while I may not share their sentiment, I do not wish them to be unhappy.  

Anyhow…

Christmas is in full swing here at the homestead.  Well, actually that is a lie.  It’s probably more like “half swing.”  Maybe even a quarter.  Don’t get me wrong, though.  The tree is up.  Presents are wrapped (mostly).  And we have already watched the Polar Express at least 13 times.  

At least.

It’s our first Christmas in the country.  I envisioned it somewhat differently.  Fresh-baked goodness is not pouring from the kitchen like it normally would be.  Not even a trickle.  There are lists of homemade gifts and piles of supplies sitting lonely and unmade.  Perhaps, some time in the dwindling days before Christmas, I will manage to eek out a double batch of sugar cookies for my girlies to decorate.  Or maybe The Man will help me to dig my sewing machine out of storage so I can whip up a few last-minute surprises.  And maybe, just maybe, I will defy doctor’s orders and bake a Bouche de Noel for Christmas dinner with my lovely ladies.

It seems entirely unnatural to be sitting still so much.  My sanity is slipping and my laundry basket is overflowing.  It’s funny how rallying the troops (who are appropriately bedecked in pink glitter and lip gloss) and shouting marching orders (ever-so-softly) from the couch is consuming so much of my time. 

Thank.  God.  For.  Coffee. 

But my angels are sweet.  The Man is amazing.  And baby is well.  

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Love & Coffee.

Life has a way of running away from me when I am not looking.  The “Intentional Christmas” I had envisioned for myself and my family was not what I planned, but it was meaningful and enrapturing just the same.  

I am a “Let’s-make-it-look-like-Christmas-threw-up-in-here-the-day-after-Thanksgiving” sort of girl.

That.  Didn’t.  Happen.  

For obvious reasons, moving in December didn’t accommodate that tradition.

Consequently, the Christmas season seemed abbreviated.  And simple.  That was sort of my intention, so perhaps God knew what was best after all. 

We were able to enjoy one full week of Christmas decor (which we wisely limited to the big tree, a small tree, the nativity scene and a wreath on the door).  Originally, my stellar hubby decreed that the tree, along with its accompanying decor would be up until the end of January since we’d hardly had time enjoy it.  However, thanks to my sweet princess (mostly my 2-year-old Lovey), I have a wiseman missing a hand, a wiseman missing his pointy hat, a box full of broken ornaments to fix and partridge in a pear tree.  


They will boxed up today.  With hubby’s hearty approval.


We are finally starting to feel settled.  There are many boxes tucked away in the basement to be gone through later.  A large bag of Christmas gifts remains missing, but what a surprise it will be when we find it (unless, of course, it was inadvertently thrown away with all the other trash that amounts during a big move.)

 Coffee in hand.  And a lovely book awaiting me on the coffee table.  Now if it would just snow…

Time Change.  One of my favorite moments of the year because it’s a sign of things to come.  Things like early darkness, (I find this incredibly cozy), colder weather (an even better excuse to sip more coffee), and the holidays.  

It can also be a time to “fall back,” and re-evaluate and prepare for the upcoming excitement of all things homey, sparkling, and smelling of cinnamon spice.

I am a planner so I adore the list-making.  Christmas cards. Gifts.  Party Planning.  Menus. Holiday goodies.  Even a list for the grocery store to buy those ingredients you only buy once each year is special.

It’s easy to get caught up.  Distracted.  By the parties.  By the sales.  By the the things that don’t really matter. 

This year I have decided to have an Intentional Christmas.  This means I choose to intentionally set my own priorities.  It seems that there are so many demands thrust upon me during this time of year:

Host this event.  Send this many cards.  Spend this much money on that person and that much money on this person.  Bake treats for this and bring hot cocoa for that.  Go caroling.  Build a snowman.  Buy cute Christmas frocks for my girls.  And a partridge in a pear tree.

And then I wake up December 26.  And it’s over.  And I’m exhausted.  And although we had a great time, sometimes it feels like I just finished running a marathon.  It’s easy (and dangerous) to reduce Christmas to a series of lists.

My priorities are revealed in the places where my time and money are invested and this year I plan to make some adjustments.

I want to make sweet memories with my little ladies and my sensational husband (like letting little hands measure out all the ingredients to our traditional Buche de Noel even though it will take three times as long to make).  I want to be a blessing to someone less fortunate than us (because I remember what joy this kindness has brought to our family through others when we needed it most).  I want to teach my sweet girls the value of a thoughtful gift (and not merely a trinket haphazardly snatched from the Walmart holiday gift aisle).

I want to remember the birth of my King in the most intentional way that I can.  My darling 4-year-old said to me last week, “Just forget about the presents, it’s really about a baby.”  Perhaps I have demonstrated something right so far, but even so…

We are well on our way to the grand crescendo of Christmas and things are going to be delightfully different this year. 



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