Tag Archives: christmas

Christmas is only 15 Days Away! Let’s Pray!

Adopt our Troops in Prayer.  I just adopted John V. who is in the army and is married to Aubrie.  I will be praying for them daily!

Today is a good day to pray for our Troops!

As our military faces great scrutiny during this hustle-and-bustle of holiday activity 2009, and the talking-news-channel- heads denounce our presence in other countries, even questioning humanitarian efforts, there are those who are serving us faithfully, night and day.  Regardless of our own political opinions and views (which they defend our right to have), they deserve our prayers.

An email forward, of all things.

This came in one of those pass-it-on emails.  I have no idea who wrote it, but it reminded me of young men and women, especially right now when we hold our families close and celebrate Christmas with gifts and gatherings and eggnog and merriment, who are already in Iraq or Afghanistan or other nations around the world or will be deployed shortly.  And I am sobered and humbled by their sacrifice.  And reminded to pray. 

Part Boy.  Part Man.

The average age of the military man is 19 years.  He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as part man, part boy.   He’s not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.  He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s, but he has never collected unemployment either.

sec

He’s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.  He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
securedownload
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.  He is self-sufficient.

He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry and knows how to fold his socks the right way.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.

He can save your life – or take it, because that is his job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
tear soldie2
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed..

He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to ‘square-away ‘ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.  In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.

loading

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.   Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
secure

And let us not forget the women also serving over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.  No entitled princesses here.

securedownd

 ‘Lord, hold our troops in Your loving hands… Give them strength and courage as they protect and serve.  Guide them through their missions and be a shield before them.  Protect them as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need… Amen.’

Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine, or Airman, prayer is the very best one.  Please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops in Afghanistan , sailors on ships, and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq , Afghanistan and all foreign countries.

 

Yeah.  I can’t help it.  I am patriotic and these faces?  Bring out the protective mama in me.

Only 16 Days to Go and I am Soooooo Behind!

Oh, yikes…there is shopping and baking and out-of-town company coming and parties and the grandbebe photo-shoot for cards that will be sent at the last possible minute and-and-and….{deep sigh}, it will all come together, right?  I do love Christmas, my happiest holiday (holy day): singing it,  lighting it, adoring Him, celebrating Him and keeping it.  Keep Christmas!  I have spent 3 years now telling you why… 

~

The TWELVE embarrassing pictures of Christmas~past!

Aw~the ones that made the cut.  From Ross the boss, Mrs. Moss and all the little Landers.  1968

scan10028

christmas-card-20082

The ones that didn’t make it.  For obvious reasons.

Nativity.

scan10032 scan10041

Left:  I was an angel (both as a child and for this photo shoot) but my mom cut my wings out of the shot!  What the heck?  I see I must have been making THE pronouncement over Baby Jesus (aka little brother, Danny), as I seem to have everyone’s rapt attention.  The set was created using bathrobes and towels, a bassinet and my aunt’s old prom dress. 

Right:  Why on earth would my own mother cut me, the angel, out?!?  Joe is not playing air guitar, but rather looking “Josephly,”…I think.  Or perhaps, “shepherdly?”

Just 5 sweet children getting ready for bed the night before Christmas.

scan10054 scan10067

Left: Well, the boys are taking a break, I see.  These were done on a Saturday night after our baths to prepare for Sunday morning.  Everyone was in good spirits, feeling fresh.  How much does Danny look like the little brother on “The Christmas Story??”

Right: We got the pooch in on this one, which, I guess, is why I got placed in the background.  Hmph.

We were Christmas Carolers.

scan10050 scan10051 

Scenario:  My mom used crayons to draw an outdoor backdrop on a white sheet.  She dragged an old storm window frame in from the garage and attached some drapes to it.  Then she used the red towel to cover a dresser and set a Biblical vingette as though some one was looking outside (from inside their cozy, warm and very spiritual home) at these little children sing.  This is WHY Photoshop was invented: to help creative photographers like my sweet mama.

BTW~these were AFTER church on a Sunday night, which followed church on Sunday morning, that had followed Sunday School before that.  I recall being veeeeeeery tired, at half past 10 p.m., it was sooooo flipping hot in our coats and hats inside the house and my mom just would not quit.

scan10053 scan10062

Left: Though nearly ruined by water damage in some humid state or another, I feel this was “the one!”  I mean, I am obviously truly singing, Tami is smiling cute!  Tim is singing his head off, even though he had the little Carol book turned inside out, you can practically read the Bible (turned appropriately, I am certain, to Luke’s Gospel. chapter 2).  It was a good one.

Right:  Danny is crying and Tim is thinking about it.  Tammy and Joe can’t keep their eyes open, and I am in a preacher’s kid-after-Sunday daze.  Let us go to bed, already, mom!

And then there is this atrocity:

christmas-76 cmas-program-76

Me, at 16, playing an 80-year old grandma in my mother’s church production, “The Littlest Package.”   Baby powder in my hair, a crocheted shawl about my shoulders.  Can’t understand at all why this didn’t make the family Christmas card?!?  (Is the girl in the left picture flipping me off?  Because she was my best friend at the time!)

I love you anyway, mamala!

17 Days until Christmas and the Magic Kingdom is Dressed in White

Winter has come to the Magic Kingdom.

Oh I miss the garden of spring, bright green and fairly juicy with surging life, growth visible almost hourly. 

stef-038 stef-046

The garden of summer, strong, tall, spreading and proud established its rightful territory hosting parties for butterflies and bumblebees while birds swooped and circled overhead for entertainment. 

stef-044 stef-042

Comes fall and the autumn colors dazzle and your head spins with the abundance and fruitfulness: ripe maturity and the reward of the work of your hands.  You  gather and enjoy as quickly as you can, more than you’d hoped or dreamed for, more than enough.  What will you do with the excess?  The garden, only months earlier bare soil, became a hypnotic haven overgrown with delicious joy and frolic, intoxicating verdancy, flourishing symbiosis and riotous vitality.

Winter.

Winter.  The winds have blown away the brown crispiness from branches no longer green in a purifying poof.  And just like that – bare, faded, stark and desolate woody shrubs etch their way across the landscape looking for all the world like death in this blustery cold.  I am forced inside where I stand at the window wondering why.  What has happened in the Magic Kingdom?

The snow covers it all.  The snow keeps falling and floating across the Magic garden Kingdom, and has settled decidedly upon each branch and every surface, carefully tucking itself around all shrubs and trees, blanketing the the 4′ x 4′ squares where vegetables once grew abundantly.  There is quiescent hush there now where once the sound of the spade dug deep into earth, the fountains bubbled exuberantly and night fires blazed; children laughed and ran around while little weeds were uprooted and branches were pruned and sugar snap peas were hungrily crunched upon right then and there in the verdant Kingdom.

Covering.

But the snow covers all now and despite my sadness at the loss of earlier, greener days,  the snow serves its true purpose hiding the ground, preventing the heat generated by the earth from escaping.  This blanket of crystal white inhibits the radiant life energy from abandoning the roots of the trees and bushes and plants and they are graced with warmth and protection (often 40-degrees warmer) in the dark, deep soil of winter, regardless of what happens in the visible.  Did you know roots have a life-pulse that continues through even the most frigid conditions?  When the branches above have been frozen in their tracks by sub-zero temperatures, the roots are active and ready to spring into action at any moment, growing and spreading further and deeper even during the resting phase of winter.  The snow covering is grace.  The snow is mercy.  The snow is a safeguard, a secure shelter for the deepest, most important, most delicate and valuable resources and treasures.

b-0011 b-0031

The snow covers it all.  It unifies the the browns and grays and wheat-golds of the deciduous stand-bys.  For this season, this cold and sometimes hope-dwindling time of year, the snow creates a formal gown of beauty for ashes, of gladness for mourning and becomes a garment of praise instead of despair (Is. 61.3).  Sandy-the-Dog runs into the white, kicking up the flakes like dust and hundreds of birds fill the air in shock from where they’d been feasting on berries, but soon realize how harmless she  is and go back to stake their claim.  I laugh at the sight.  Life goes on.  In winter white.

He gives beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair

When sorrow seems to surround you
When suffering hangs heavy over your head
Know that tomorrow brings
Wholeness and healing
God knows your need
Just believe what He said

He gives beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair

Crystal Lewis, Beauty for Ashes

Hidden under a canopy of mercy on a melancholy winter’s day…Jeanie

b-0021 b-0081

NOTE TO SELF:  Spring will come again.  My roots will be more established, stronger.  Have mercy on me, Lord, have mercy…

pictured: The Magic Kingdom (aka my backyard) in September; and now.

Christmas is only 19 Days Away!

From my living room window as I write, I can look out across the broad front lawns of our farm like a lovely picture post card of wintry New England.  In my fireplace the good cedar logs are burning and crackling.  I just stopped to go into my gleaming kitchen to test the crumbly brown goodness of the toasted veal cutlets a la {?} in my oven.  Cook these slowly…”  Elizabeth Lane (as played by the versatile and provocative Barbara Stanwyck) sitting in her New York apartment (pretending to be on a farm in Connecticut) typing her column  for the American Housekeeping Magazine in the movie, “Christmas in Connecticut”

pikespeaksnow1

No toasted veal cutlets warming in my oven here (I just had a slice of cold pizza for breakfast), but along with a rich cup of steaming-hot coffee I am enjoying a delicious, slow Sunday morning in the Colorado air where a light, dusty snow is falling softly like grace, covering the winter-scarred landscape with a sparkling beauty in  a gentle silence.  In a pallette of white alone, God manages to cause the somewhat lifeless winter look to awaken in splendor and reveal His mercy-covering nature to a fallen world.

Snow falls like grace and suddenly all things are new again. 

“God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding.  He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’  So that all men He has made may know His work, He stops every man from his labor.”  Job 37.5-7 NIV

image found on google: Rocky Mountain Reflections Photography, Inc.  by Andy Cook

21 Days ’til Christmas ~ Holidays are Joyful!

“The lights on my tree, I wish you could see, I wish it everyday.”

I grew up with very traditional Christmas music.  The 1960’s were when you could purchase an LP for $1.98 at the supermarket full of all the classic songs like “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…” and “A Few of My Favorite Things”  by various artists including Johnny Mathis or The Ray Conniff Singers.  Occasionally you’d buy an album by a stand-out like Bing Crosby.  I still treasure the 2 Christmas records I have by him.

“Merry Christmas, Darling,” by the Carpenters was my first sort of non-traditional Christmas pop-song.  I’d hold my dad’s little transistor radio (which I’d snuck from his second dresser drawer) to my ear, and, at barely 11, sing along with Karen, trying with all my heart to understand her longing.

Through the years more and more Christmas music has been added to the songs I love.  Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers have produced some great stuff.  Lee Greenwood sings a couple that always pierce my heart.  The Partridge Family album still makes me laugh and I even enjoy a Motown Christmas.  Harry Connick Jr. is great for seasonal cheery tunes as well as some sacred and I do love the 90’s Mariah Carey album.  And let’s not forget that Amy Grant, is a Christmas-music genius.

christmas-card-20081

Looking Back

But this year, I am feeling very traditional again.  I am reaching back to music I grew up with, the songs my mom played on the Hi-Fi during my early days.  I am less about the pop side of Christmas and anything that has been produced since 1970 and on, and sort of loving melodies that have been recorded so many times no one even remembers who did them first (like “Winter Wonderland”) and some that have been recorded a lot but the first recording is all that matters (like “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby).

The cool thing now is, of course, that “Merry Christmas, Darling” is a classic.  It IS one of the old tried and true songs of the season.  And now I understand the deep sentimentality.  For I wish, if I might “have the wish that I wish for tonight,” to gather everyone I love from near and far together during these long, dark winter nights to laugh and remember, to sing and make merry, to be close and bask in the 6-7000 lights on my tree.  And we could play Karen and sing…

That I wish you a Merry Christmas

Happy New Year, too

I’ve just one wish on this Christmas Eve

I wish I were with you, I wish I were with you. 

Bed space is limited here.  So if you are going to come and see me and make my wishes come true, please call in advance.

pictured: The Moslander family Christmas card, 1968.  Jeanie, Joey, Timmy, Tammy and Danny (Love love love to my siblings!  Please note: I was reading from The Children’s Book of Knowledge – which is why you are all so successful and smart.  You may thank me with a very nice Christmas gift.)

22 Days and Counting & the True Meaning of Christmas

Has anyone ever really said it better?

Did you see the full moon last night, first all huge and orangy just emerging over the horizon and then bright in the blue, white-puffy-cloud sky?  Oh it was gorgeous (from my seat in the car in the church parking lot where it took a full half hour to warm up!).  The stars were twinkling and the dry snow shimmered in its moonlit bath while I listened to a rather decent selection of Christmas music on Cozy-101.*   And it was frigid, frightfully lung-freezing cold at 19-degrees, but there is something so pure, so quiet in that.

This is the only time this year I plan to romanticize winter.  It happened.  It was beautiful.  Now let’s get back to a regular Colorado winter.  For crying out loud. 

*I want Delilah’s job (weekdays 7pm – midnight on Cozy!).  And that cannot be her real name?  Come on.

23 Day Countdown and Ho Ho Ho with Hunter

Hunter’s parents are out of town

He walked in Monday, dropped his bags, adjusted his red super-hero cape and asked me, “So Nonna, are you really happy to see me here for 2 days?”  Naturally!  I am.

I took Hunter to pre-school Tuesday afternoon.  It is in an older home in a slightly rural setting and all the mommies gather to visit on the front porch before the teacher unlocks the door.  

taras-015 taras-024 taras-062

On Santa Claus.

I am visiting with the young mommies and rather flattered that I was mistaken for one of them briefly, though as I expressed to them quite candidly, “If I had a 5 year old at my age, I’d shoot myself,” (though the morning cuddling is divine).  When suddenly I become aware that the very black-and-white-no-gray-area, pragmatic grandson, Hunter, is causing terror in the heart of a darling little long-haired girl with this announcement: “There is no Santa Claus.  He is not real, he is a fake.  My mommy and daddy told me the truth.” 

“He is real.  There is a Santa Claus – he comes to my house,” she countered, then to her mommy, “He is saying Santa Claus isn’t real.”

I tried to get him to stop…several times.  Several. Times.  But he just would not.  He terrorized the little girl and any other child who would listen with his no-Santa declaration.

When I tried explaining to him later that it is not up to him to tell other children what he knows about Santa, but that he should allow their own parents  to explain that, he countered incredulously with, “Well, her mom was the one who told her there is a real Santa Claus.” 

My own kids were also the dashers of Santa dreams during their public school years, with Stormie being the greatest offender.  You know the joy many families get from perpetuating the Santa Claus story during Christmas?  Well, apparently our family finds that joy through shooting it down.  YIKES!  Mea culpa…I really did feel bad.  Touchy subject.

taras-055 taras-069

Other Hunterisms:

He and I were watching cute internet animal videos and I was oohing and aahing over the mini-pigs that are only the size of newborn babies full-grown.  When it showed a woman cuddling with one while she was watching TV I asked him, “Don’t you want a little mini-pig, Hunter?  You could cuddle with it.  How cute?”  He gave me the what-is-wrong-with-your-logic look, took a deep breath and informed me, “Nonna.  My house is not a farm.”

Hunter, after seeing Stormie’s jar of pennies:  “Why do you have all this money? You need to be giving it and not keeping it all to yourself.”

On the way to the airport the other day, DP and Tara in the front seat, Hunter and Tredessa in the back, they were singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” joyfully anticipating the Christmas season ahead and Hunter got pretty agitated when his dad sang silly or changed the words or tune.  He wanted a straight-up version apparently.  Because on the next run-through, when Dessa started shouting out those little phrases that many people like to add: “Like a lightbulb,” and “Like Monopoly” to fill in the Rudolph story, Hunter stopped them cold.  “We have to sing this right!  Tredessa back here is being all funny.”  But Hunter was not amused.  Hunter does not want humor added to something as serious as Christmas!

Hunter loves to wrestle and engaged his Auntie Stormie in a battle.
Hunter:
In the name of Jesus! (runs over and karate chops the Aunt.  The Aunt grabs his wrists, immobilizing him)
Hunter: I said ‘IN THE NAME OF JESUS!’
(Stormie giggling, still holding his wrists, Hunter gets quiet)
Hunter: (whispering VERY quietly): God, help me.
(Stormie begins laughing so hard she lets go of his wrists)
Hunter: See? God told you to let go!

Stormie and Hunter were looking at pictures from his birthday party.                                                                                 Stormie: Do you remember you were sick at your party?   (Hunter nods)  That was pretty stinky huh?  {30 second pause}
Hunter: You could smell my illness?

You might imagine that an an actual argument about the proper use of the word “stink” ensued.  He is literal.  That keeps us laughing.  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!

images: Hunter around the time he turned 5 in October…does anyone doubt that he was actually piloting that plane?  I don’t!

Wise Men Found Him

Today is the Christian observance of Epiphany – sometimes called “Little Christmas” – celebrating the visit of the Magi to Baby Jesus.

Epiphany is also used to express a sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something amazing (like grace, or God’s love toward us, for instance).

I was alone in my bedroom at the age of almost-5 when I asked Christ into my heart (very sincerely and with tears, no less).  There was no one there to record the moment, though I was blessed with godly parents who discipled me to grow in the grace and admonition of the Lord.

So for me, Epiphany is a good day to remember and celebrate and light the last of the Christmas candles and plug in the lone tree’s lights one final time before the final packing away (all is gone now save the tree of my faith).  It is a good day to say:

I found Him!  My Savior, the Lover of my soul.  Light of the world came to live in me.

What an epiphany!  What a realization!