Here I am sitting in my p.j.s at 2:15 in the afternoon on Christmas Day. And it's not 'cause I'm lazy. Buck and I woke up children at 7:15 and started the Christmas rituals.
Baking cinnamon rolls.
Reading the gospel account of the first Christmas.
Prayers and gifts offered to Jesus.
Buck sang his beautiful new song accompanied by his mandolin.
Opening mountains of presents spread before the tree. Our families are so generous.
Buck scurries to work, because God knows, the air traffic needs his guidance.
Turkey roasts in the oven, and it smells heavenly.
After the plethora of presents have been enjoyed, I send children to find spaces for new things in their rooms.
The boys burn the remains of crumpled wrapping paper and torn boxes.
I also ask them to thoughtfully pack for our trip tomorrow.
Next up is the laundry and lots of it, because one son had a fiberglass fiasco falling from the attic on his clothes two days in a row. All of his clothes are being washed for a second time.
We also are preparing for our animal care while we are out of town. Buck does not look forward to returning early from our trip to find our elderly cat's whims concerning the litter box. It's hit or miss, and lately it's more miss as he ages. He actually sits in the box and poops over the side. Insert eye roll here for the many times a week I must mop that floor. I've done so already once today.
Yesterday, I woke up irked knowing Buck would be working all day yesterday and most of today. It's much more fun to bear the load of preparing a feast and sharing the loveliness of the day with my husband, who always knows just how to make everything fun. Yet every year he must instead go to work on the holiday, and I fight an internal war against private sulking over the hours he's gone. I prayed yesterday morning and found a peace I hadn't ever felt before in offering this unhappy wrinkle in my Christmas plans as my gift to Jesus. I also determined to have my children in on the feast preparations. They all diligently worked along side me in the kitchen last night making of pies, fudge, dips, sides,and dough.
It may sound silly, but Peace, Pooh Bear and I have been interspersing games of gooey egg toss (thanks a million, Clay!) from Mast General Store throughout the many duties of the day. It's been a hoot. Tater and Wise One took a ride on their fancy and shiny new bicycles. I'm not sure if I'll ever see Wise One again, because he's broken into the giant box chock full o' Adventures in Odyssey he's never heard before given freely to us by a sweet friend. Pooh Bear is utterly engrossed in Felicity, her first (and probably only) American Girl Doll. Tater is listening to tunes on his new ipod purchased by his siblings for him from Craig's List. I expect Peace will remain scarce as he enjoys his new gadget.
No funk or blues here, even for me. I'm am glad of this new experience of peace in the offering of this time away from Buck.
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