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…
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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
The ones that didn’t make it. For obvious reasons.
Nativity.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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!)