Just Because

It took a minute to realize what had transpired.

Our elves skewered snowman shaped marshmallows on sticks last night, and roasted them over an open flame.... of a candy cane candle.

Hershey miniature bar wrappers, tossed willy-nilly amongst graham cracker squares, made it crystal clear:  They made s'mores.

S'mores?  On a Thursday?
Yum.

I would never think to do that. 

I think to unload the dishwasher, check homework, return phone calls.  Those things have to get done.

But I appreciate how these elves operate... grabbing little delightful opportunities when they present themselves. It sure makes for joyful kids.

I bet it would make for a joyful mom.

Falling Temps

Our elves could not be located ANYWHERE this morning.  They've gone missing before, and turned up in some of the oddest places.  So, Andy looked in Christmas trees, on ceiling fans, and in refrigerator freezers.  No elves. 

Recalling that one of their adventures last year involved take-out pizza, he ran to the window.  Now, mind you, the average temperature this week has been about 4 degrees, but despite the cold, Andy ran outside... in socks and pajamas. 

There on our deck, seemingly frozen in time, were Brownie and Charlie in the midst of an ice skating party.  They had been drinking pop and hot chocolate (now also frozen in time). 

"And Mom!" exclaimed Andy, "They had the FAKE Santa with them too!!!"

Such resourceful little elves... and full of bright ideas.

Inspired, Andy is geared up to pull out the lumber and rebuild our own ice rink. 
Coincidentally, so is his dad.

I'm stocking up on hot chocolate.

Dentistry Elves

It's hard to get things completed around here at times, and plenty to distract me. 

There's a section of my kitchen countertop that regularly has a stack of papers and mail and notes that, well, just rotates papers and mail and notes. My computer desk is the same.

We had our Christmas decorations hauled out of the attic storage taunting the kids for a whole week before a tote got cracked open.  The main floor is pretty much done now, but the pint sized "kids' tree" has remained bare and lightless upstairs in our common room. 

Until last night.

Our little elves apparently made their FIRST act of mischief one of helpfulness too, covering that little tree with pretty colored lights, and.... toothbrushes??????  Perhaps the sheer quantity in this house was enough to inspire them. 

I'm just glad they didn't raid the underwear drawer.



Advent Lesson:  Who knows?  Maybe this is a reference to their friend Hermey of the Rudolf story who, despite ridicule, really really wanted to be a dentist...  "Embrace your gifts and talents." 

Or, maybe it was just for fun!

They're Baaaaaack!

We're big on traditions around here.  They help ground our family and give us shared experiences.

During the Christmas holidays, we traditionally make egg nog before we decorate the tree, read from a little Advent book each night at dinner, and share a blessing cup at prayer on Sundays when there is a new candle to light.

Some of these traditions, however, are thrust upon us, like the elves who arrive with St. Nicholas sometime in the wee hours of December 6th.

For years St. Nick has filled our shoes left under the tree with little trinkets and gold (chocolate filled) coins.  Legend says he tossed gold coins in a window to help a poor family offer marriage dowries for their three daughters, and these coins fell in stockings by the mantle.

We talk about how Nicholas, because of his love of Christ, worked tirelessly to help the needy, and how his story reminds us that we are called to follow his example of charity and generosity.

But a few years back, two little elves named Brownie and Charlie showed up with him, and they stay all season.  Supposedly their job is to report in to Santa about Krenz Kid Conduct in the weeks leading up to Christmas.  No one, after all, wants her name recorded on a Naughty List.

However, we've never really operated like this.  So, our little elves instead help us focus our attention on The Reason For The Season.  And, considering the crazy, stress-filled days of December, it's usually the parents who need the most reminding. 

Maybe that's why, on their arrival last night, the midnight guests also left us a copy of  Jim Carrey's The Grinch.  We all need the chance for a little redemption, and we need to work on a heart that has the potential to grow at least three times its original size. 

I'm expecting we are going to have a whole lot of fun along the way this Holiday season, and make some decent sized memories along with it.

Stay tuned.

God's Handiwork

I'm regularly given pause by watching the people my kids are becoming, and humbled by the clear fact that I have little to do with it.

Oh, I'll have to be accountable for their lack of manners, disrespect for others, and general selfishness, for what lazy parent should get a free pass for producing such societal menaces?

No, what I'm talking about is the stuff that makes them absolutely shine.  The stuff IN them that I didn't put there.  The stuff that makes me sit back and say, "Wow.  What a gift!"

Last night I left Maddie hard at work drawing an Indian Chief for a school bulletin board.  She checked out various images on the computer for inspiration, asked to borrow large white cardstock, sharpened some pencils, and consulted shading techniques with her sister.  This morning, I was overjoyed to find this drawing on the kitchen table.

I honestly didn't know she could do this.

And it is truly beautiful.

It's an answered prayer, really.  Like so many other conscientious parents with limited time and limited funds, we can't expose our kids to the myraid of lessons and workshops and camps and various kinds of enrichment that would help our children develop their God-given talents, let alone just explore what those talents might be.

Yes, they do get some exposure, but in a small rural town and as one of nine children, how do you know you're good at the cello?  Can perform an arabesque or stand en pointe at the barre?  Have a gift for comprehending aerodynamics?  Or be able to throw clay on a wheel and create beautiful pottery?  (We can't do any of this... but who knows?  Someone still might.).    Still, I could go crazy numbering all the ways I potentially fail my kids, and not helping them develop their gifts is one of them.  Even worse, I worry about a child who would question the value of his own God-given worth, created for a purpose, and here for a reason.

So, one of my frequent prayers (usually out of desperation, or when I'm particularly overwhelmed) is that God please show these children what their gifts and talents are and to provide the people and means along the way to teach them how to use these gifts well... be it drawing, or singing, or hurdling, or loving.

Afterall, they are His handiwork, not mine.  And I just marvel at what He has made.

We are the clay, and you the potter; we are the work of your hands. (Isaiah 64:8)

Tumbling Treasures

We live in an old home, so I'm accustomed to stuff not being perfect.  There are cracks in the plaster walls, gouges in the oak floors, and BB gun pellet dings on the living room ceiling.  (Teenage sons of the previous owners... NOT OURS). 

We also live in an old community.  Our current library building was actually an old Congregational church, donated to the city for this public purpose in 1912.  The charm of our turn-of-the-century pharmacy includes its worn wood floors, painted tin ceiling, custom cabinetry and medicinal labeled porcelain knobs (not to mention the charm of friendly pharmacists who work there!).  The building that houses our current grade school was built in 1877.  There's some history in those halls.

I'm surrounded by old, worn stuff, and it's not uncomfortable.

But things got a little exciting a few months ago when the back of one of the downtown buildings literally slid off.

Thankfully, no one was injured.  However, the site was quite impressive, and the kids and I would regularly drive by to see what else was hanging out of the exposed end. 

To our joy, the city has finally contracted the details of demolishing this property and work started on it this week. 

From the safety of our big white van, we got to gawk at two brave men (one is shown in this picture) who withstood the windy heights to knock out sections, brick by brick.  When larger chunks tumbled out of the air and crashed to the protected sidewalk below, you could hear the whoops and cheers eminating from my van.  The dust didn't settle, and neither did the Five-and-Under crowd.

The children were excited, but I was also a little sad.  This building is much older than three of me, and now it will be gone forever. 

The arches above the windows, the detailed stone carvings, the cornice at the very top.... all this "character", gone.  And I couldn't help but wonder about the personal history of the people who utilized this building over the years, those who worked in it, those who lived in it, and the generations since who have ridden their bikes in front of it. 

In a few short weeks, the resulting big empty lot will look awkward.  Rosie, Finan, even Andy and Merryn may never remember what the downtown looked like before the gaping hole, but I will. 

And, I realize I've just joined the ranks of those who "Remember when..."

Jumping In

Yooohoo.  Anybody home?

Yes.  We're here... even since the end of July.  But I can't remember last week, let alone last July, so, I'm jumping in where we are.

And that happens to be up to our ears with school.

And a certain 4th grader needing help with her science homework... "single cell orgasms" (Her father, who is also helping to correct her pronunciation, adds "If only it were that easy.").

And a first grader who drew a picture full of people, and who STILL didn't have enough classtime to complete the assignment of  drawing "My Family".  I wonder how many times he had to ask permission to sharpen his pencil.  (He is the 7th Krenz for this wonderful teacher... she could accurately draw the family portrait for us).

And two giddy high schoolers scavaging archaic clothing.  It's Homecoming week, and they needed to dress in the '80s.  Torn, off the shoulder sweatshirt, fingerless leather glove, pearls, white tennies with hot pink laces, shoulder pads, tunic length sweaters, leg warmers, Big Hair...  RELAX; this was not from MY closet!  (They would not have thought this was so funny if it were from my closet).  Thank you, dear youthful Charlotte, for opening yours.

When I was wearing shoulder pads back in the day, I couldn't fathom a future with nine children, all of them ours.  I bopped along between classes listening to my cassette player.  I was as clueless as a single cell orgasm.

Still am.  Sometimes.