Much as always, Christmas arrived at breakneck pace. Once it arrived, we slowed down enough to enjoy it. We had one of our chickens baked up in a pie for dinner. And enjoyed Baileys in our coffee while munching on Christmas cookies and watching the first Christmas Day snowflakes to fall in Central NC in over 60 years. I was as excited as the kids. We had about 5 inches of snow here at our house and enjoyed a SLOW December 26th. We putzed around the house, played cards with Flora, cars with Ward, and watched Isabel devour books.
After a leisurely morning (well, as leisurely as life can be with three kids, two dogs, and two cats under foot), we went for a family walk. It was one of those moments in life tinged with crazy making nonsense and sweet, sweet joy. You see, getting ready to head out with three kids is never easy. First there was the timing: everyone fed, napped, bathroom needs attended to. And then there was finding appropriate attire for everyone, shoes being the most critical component. First, Isabel came down with cloth boots on (these weren’t really boots…more like glorified cotton tennis shoes in boot form…they would have been soaked through in 2 minutes) and Flora came down in dress shoes. Shoes take two involved Mommy going upstairs to rummage through the shoe baskets. Out came almost too little rubber boots. 5 coats, sets of gloves, hats and scarves later, we were ready to go outside. We made it to the end of the drive-way before I heard Flora say, “Man, I should have worn socks!” Back inside for shoes take three…lots of drama about sock bumps and limited mobility because of wearing winter gear and Ward on my back found me biting my tongue practically in half before we made it back out of the door. The walk itself was glorious. It was absolutely clear that God had kissed the moment and handed it to me.
Then back home to build a snow-man, play fetch with the dog that didn’t get to go on the walk, and head indoors right as Ward proclaimed he had had enough of this cold stuff. By the time he was unbundled, I was unbundled, the melting snow was wiped up, and soup was well under way and starting to bubble on the stove top, Flora was at the door having a melt-down because she couldn’t get her frozen boots off her feet. Many tears later, she was wrapped in a blanket on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate right as Isabel was at the door also in tears, also with boots frozen onto her feet. It took Eli to pry the last boot off as I popped the cup of hot chocolate into her hands. When she asked, “Does it have cinnamon?” I managed a lie through gritted teeth, “Yes, dear” instead of the “No, but I spit in it for good measure!” that immediately popped to mind. You see, I struggle with these tiny chaos-filled moments. All the work a parent does that is so totally unnoticed and unappreciated by young children. It can wear on me. It can bring out the worst in me. So I struggle to set a good, loving example. Sometimes I do alright, other times not so much. I’m okay with the lie I told. It was better than the one that almost flew out of my mouth. It was an afternoon when I knew full well how incredibly blessed I was and at the same time how challenging it was to keep that mindset of gratitude and thankfulness.
It absolutely is the season to take stock, reflect, and count one’s blessings. I am so grateful. Three beautiful children, a loving husband, a warm house, plenty of critters to keep your feet warm at night, a slumbering garden, and above all, a generous and good God. A Happy New Year to you all!
