Just in time

I remember as a child how long the month of December was. Now I wonder where the month went. I make a concentrated effort to eliminate unnecessary activities and protect our time. I am careful to direct our attention to charity and service. I want so much for it to be a sacred space of time in our year and in our lives. But still, the busyness. Homeschool combined with Braden's master's degree (plus a handful of other endeavors and commitments) left me feeling like I was dog paddling in the ocean. Not really drifting out to sea, but lacking solid footing on which to stand. I have the sense that I'm not moving forward so much as I am just trying to stay afloat. I found myself standing in the kitchen the day before Christmas preparing our traditional Au Jus, deeply wanting to feel connected to the Christmas spirit. Braden's classes were complete for the semester, our travels were complete, school was out for a week, and the shopping was done- including the stress of obtaining a surprise puppy. Our Christmas Eve festivities were hours away and I wondered if it was too late to be a part of that moving and transformative power of Christmas that I was yearning for. The one that has absolutely nothing to do with the gift giving of Christmas morning. I turned on what has become my favorite Christmas song- Hallelujah by Cloverton. Something about this video has resonated so profoundly within me. The simplicity of the surroundings perhaps? The video shows a cafe full of regular people listening to the words "hallelujah" being sung about the baby Jesus and our part in his eventual suffering. Everything about it is ordinary. The setting, the clothing, the people. In the absence of any especially attractive people, outfits, decor, or food, this group of people seem to all be feeling the same thing- reverence and adoration for a little baby who changed the world. The song is sung with a certain amount of ....desperation? It mirrored what I felt in my heart. In the middle of my ordinary busy life I was desperate to come together with my family and unite in our adoration of the baby Jesus. I didn't have time to decorate my house or cookies or gifts the way I wanted to, but I was intent on remembering the young couple who were asked to raise the Savior. To think about his life and his love for us. To think about His gift of redemptive love. I listened to this song on repeat all morning as I went about my tasks. I realized it wasn't too late to be filled with the special spirit of Christmas. In fact, I believe that is one of the most hopeful themes of the gospel- it is never too late. The opportunity to be filled with Christ's love is always there for the taking.

Houston: we have a problem

As fierce defenders of spontaneous parenting (read too lazy and disorganized to plan), we decided to go to Sea World last weekend. The winter tends to make me a tad bit grumpy and before long I start looking around for cheap fixes of sunshine. In my haste, I failed to thoroughly check hours and dates. About five hours into our trip to San Antonio I realized that Sea World would be closed on the day we planned to go. This was after we spent hours spelling every ocean themed word we could think of. It was crushing. We turned around and drove several more hours to get to Spring. We had planned on going there and also to Longview anyway as part of our trip. In the end it worked out. 

We were able to spend more time with Phil's family and my parents and Grandma. I was so enthused about our visit. My kids enjoyed a walk with Granddad, chatting with him for several hours around a campfire, and exploring the creek behind Grandma's house with my Mom. Braden and I sat around around the fire and talked with them after the kids were in bed and that was such a rare and precious opportunity. I heard stories from Dad's mission that I had never heard before.

Sometimes our best laid plans can change, offering us a special opportunity. Turns out, the same thing can happen to our sloppy last minute plans as well. 

I will always be grateful for those few lovely days.  

At the zoo in Houston. We finally got to meet smiley Owen.

Maisey and Dallin in her happy place. This girl is constantly drumming on everything. Some days I tell myself that I should buy her a drum because she loves to do it and it comes so naturally to her that it seems a crime not to develop that. But then I remember that it's also a crime to hurt a child, which might happen if I had her drumming in my house all day.

This is exactly how I felt being so close to the giraffes. It was all I could do not to hug this beautiful creature.

Whenever I look back and see my kids hugging, holding hands, and giggling together it makes me feel like maybe we're doing something right, even if it is only buying the biggest bag of pretzels and giving them the green light on it.

This tunnel was a hoot to crawl through with the kids.

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See, they don't even have pretzels this time. The love is real.

Elise lavished Granddad in her unreserved affection.Also, she gave him a pretty cool hair-do.

Grandmother at the creek

Children's museum in Houston

the loudness therof

Let's all share in a moment of gratitude for the lack of audio clips to accompany these pictures. 

Our house is loud. It's mostly loud for all the right reasons. But, still. The loudness. I keep meaning to emphasize proper table manners. But every time I try I swear they don't hear me. Because the loudness. 

If they turn out to be shrieking banshees we'll know why. If they turn out to be strange thespians that Braden and I can't relate to, we'll wish we had insisted on the table manners. 

Elise holding nothing back.