What’s a Little Ice When You’ve Got Angels on Your Side?

Posted on March 4, 2013 by gretcheno

After 19 years of living in the Mid West, I think I’m beginning to belong.

I have joined the ranks of Minnesotans who say, “If we stayed home at the least little bit of nasty weather, we’d never go anywhere for six months.”

I have survived two horrid driving events in the past month and a half, and I am alive to tell about it, with my untainted driving record still in place.

Lest you think I am bragging, let me hasten to assure you that I know – I KNOW – that God has at least one angel on perpetual “Keep Gretchen Safe While She’s Driving” duty – so it’s not to my credit that I’m alive…it’s to His.

I don’t know why He has chosen to protect me in this way. All I can think is that He must still have some plans that involve me and it’s just not my time yet. Which is fine with me.

Both of these wretched driving situations of the past few weeks have involved freezing rain. Both involved me saying, “What am I, nuts?” as I drove along the highway at speeds less than half of the 65-75 suggested miles per hour. And both found my husband out of town and my kids and I braving the elements together.

And both, I must admit, did not take me out of the house for life or death reasons.

Take last night, for example. The kids and I drove out to our pastor’s house for a book discussion with some other couples from church. I like this chance to talk about interesting stuff, and the kids like the opportunity to play with their friends. I’d seen the weather report, yes. I knew that the rain was beginning to fall as we left the house…but I’m an optimist. I figured, “Either the weather report is exaggerating and this won’t come to anything or I’ll drive home in the freezing rain and put those angels to work.”

Okay, I didn’t really think about the angels. I just hoped for the best and ignored the worst.

When we left their house two hours later I was slightly worried. As we slid on our tennis shoes across the road to our car – holding tight to the little one’s hands – I was a wee bit more worried. As I started up the car, after breaking the ice on the door handles, I was in full “praying mode”.

This was one of those, “Kids, please turn off the radio and don’t talk,” car rides. What usually takes us 13 minutes took us 35. I saw a few semi trucks pulled off the road and I wondered – not for the first time – how truck drivers do what they do.

The temperature was 26 and the rain was relentless. In the dark and the conditions, I managed to make a wrong turn. I forgot to put on the Four Wheel Drive until I was about three miles from home. The ABS brakes kicked in several times.

But, despite it all, we made it home.

When the garage door finally shut behind us, I realized I was shaking.

“I never stopped praying,” Meep, our oldest daughter said.

“I prayed a little,” our son added.

The six year old was asleep.

Yep, she’s a born Minnesotan. “Mom will get us through. What’s a little ice?”

Either that or the angels were singing her a lullaby as they kept our car on the road.

Girl Scout Writers – Part One

Posted on February 18, 2013 by gretcheno

For several years I have had the privilege of co-leading my daughter’s Girl Scout troop. The girls are in the 4th and 5th grades now and – if you’re interested – are busy selling cookies!

But that’s not why I’m writing about them. I’m writing about them because we’ve been doing a writing badge – and they’ve discovered that writing can be hard work!

Part of my incentive for them to write was a promise that I would post one of their pieces here on my blog. I should clarify that this was an incentive for some…and a “de-centive” (that ought to be a word) for others…though, me thinks, that the ladies who fussed about it did protest a little too much.

So I give you the first of my (anonymous) Girl Scouts writings – reproduced exactly as she wrote it, without correction.

Enjoy!

Top Hat – by S., grade 4

Flat and tall and black as coal,
accsesorizing feather shows a lot of soul.
Leathery soft and a velvet brim,
the brushing against the mad hatter’s wig.
Smells like a tap dancer’s daisy-scented bangs,
taste’s like the metal on the hook it hangs.

I Dream an Ocean

Posted on February 4, 2013 by gretcheno

I live on the prairie, but I was born near the sea.
On rocky shores and tidepools I cut my teeth.
And it is never far from my mind.

So I give you this today – a poem, I suppose – because I can’t stop remembering.

I Imagine an Ocean

I pretend, sometimes, that the field to the east of my house is the sea. I imagine that the brown slopes are actually undulating waves; that the trees far off on the edge of the hill are trees on an island, waving their branches in a salt-scented breeze.

Not palm trees – no thank you – these are pine trees, the trees of my childhood, the trees of Puget Sound with their balsamic scent (Does that word work here? I choose to say it does.) and their sticky sap just waiting its turn to enfold unsuspecting bees which, in their amber prisons, will fascinate scientists millennia from now.

I imagine my prairie ocean with the most success when it’s foggy and I cannot see the dirt. Then it’s easy to see phantom many-masted ships, their sails set and their scuppers gleaming. Or, more likely in these days, scurrying speed-boats, as we used to call them, their purpose apparently nothing more than making waves and scaring seagulls.

I imagine I am on a tall cliff – not unlike that of my youth – and I – why not? – a lighthouse keeper, a fog-horn blaster, the sole protector of sailor’s lives. Their one and only defense against a watery grave.

Would that I had been there for the Edmund Fitzgerald.

In the autumn when combines, like ships in the night, roam the sloping shores of my imagined ocean, I sit out on the deck and savor the sight: I am in a valued port, a sheltered haven where HMS John Deere tacks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, in her attempts to reach safe harbor. I wave and shout, “Ahoy!” but the good ship cannot hear me over the chugging of her engines and she carries on – back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, she sails away, taking her fleet with her.

And I am left on deck, with nothing but my dried-up ocean, my memory of water, the scent of salt-spray tickling at my throat.

Bonus: For those of you who don’t know my reference, The Edmund Fitzgerald was an ore ship which sank in a storm on Lake Superior on November 10, 1975. All 29 men in the crew perished. This video link is of a great song, by Gordon Lightfoot, titled, the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. The video is entirely footage of Lake Superior, the wreck itself, and with the song as the background.

Yes, I realize that I referenced a fresh-water incident in my salt-water poem…but it’s the ship which comes to mind when living in Minnesota! In addition, I must say that I did not mean to be flippant about the wreck…it was a heart-breaking incident and remains, to this day, the largest ship ever to be lost on Lake Superior.

Brief Reflections on this Frigid Winter Day

Posted on January 24, 2013 by gretcheno

My nose is cold. So are my feet. I’m wearing two pairs of socks, but I’m foolishly sitting by a sliding glass door and it’s two degrees out with a wind chill of minus seven. I suppose I ought to move, but if I do then I’ll see the dishes that need washing and the clothes that need folding. Perhaps I’ll just stay here and be chilly.

After 19 years in the Mid-West, I still can’t get used to the deep freeze months. Even weirder is how it can be 40 degrees one day and high of zero the next – and I don’t mean at night, but in the day. I do like the days when the sun shines, though. Out in Washington, where I grew up, the sun sometimes chooses to hide for days – weeks, even – at a time. This is a depressing truth. By contrast, here in Minnesota we use our sunglasses year-round. We often get lovely sunny days…even if the temperature doesn’t rise above ten…if you’re lucky.

I think that the ability to appreciate frigid temperatures must be inborn.

This bodes well for my children, all Minnesotan in birth and in their choosing to pronounce “aunt” to rhyme with “taunt” rather than “ant”. I am stubbornly sticking with “ant” just because I like to be different.

I also, apparently, am stubbornly sticking with this chilly spot by the giant window to do my writing today, even though there are several warmer places I could move my computer to…places like the kitchen stove, perhaps, or my electric-blanket-warmed bed.

I think this will be a short post.

I think, in fact, that a need a cup of hot tea. Or mittens (which make typing difficult). Or, preferably, a hat and a scarf. Either that or I need to move back to Miami, where I was born.

No. I’m not that desperate.

I guess I’ll stick to the short post idea.

There. I’m done.

My Thoughts on a New Library for Nobles County

Posted on January 15, 2013 by gretcheno

I woke up from my afternoon nap on Sunday, and before I’d even gotten off of the couch, I was struck by something I’d contemplated before: the fact that I, at the newly-minted age of 43, have turned into my mother.

At least a little bit.

I distinctly remember thinking, thirty some years ago – as I watched my parents go off to their Sunday afternoon naps – “They are the craziest people ever. Who on earth would want to sleep Sunday afternoon away?”

Boy, do I understand now.

There are other ways in which I resemble my mother.

I am outspoken about things I care about.

I will never forget my mom’s frustrations with the school board. I didn’t know then – and I still don’t know now – what her exact beef was with the board, I just remember that whatever it was bothered her enough that she couldn’t keep quiet about it.

She had to speak up. She had to do what she could to make them change their minds.

Well, fast-forward a few decades and here I am: trying to convince a governing board to see things my way. Only this time it’s not the school board and this time it’s not my mother: it’s me.

On Tuesday morning, as the sun broke through the fog on a chilly Minnesota January morning, I stood – okay, sat – before the newly-sworn-in board of Nobles County Commissioners and presented my thoughts on the question of a new library for our county.

The fact that I like books ought to be clear to anyone who knows anything about me. The truth is, however, libraries today are about so much more than shelves full of books. They’re about information. They’re about computers. They’re about help and and tax forms and service and English as a Second Language. They’re about children, and story time and Easter egg hunts. They’re about teenagers fitting into society. They’re about book clubs and poetry readings and yoga. They’re about community.

I didn’t use those exact words before the board – perhaps I ought to have – instead I told a couple stories, as I am want to do – and I threw in a few facts, and I shared my Most Surreal Moment of my Life tale – always a favorite of mine. I came before the board as the chair of the Friends of the Library, but really I spoke to them just as little old me, nothing fancy. Mostly I just wanted to say something worth hearing. Something that wasn’t a waste of time. Something that made my point.

And what was my point? That we need a new library building in our county and we’d like the county to build it. We have out-grown our space, and, with 350-400 people (on average) using our facility every day, we have out-grown our building which is, by the way, older than I am.

I – and all of our supporters who were present at the board meeting that morning – are pleased with the board’s decision to seriously look into this issue – to nail down the space, size, scope and location – and that they set a realistic date to have this done by, that being April 15th. I want to thank the board for not letting this issue fade away. I did not expect the Capital Improvement Plan to be approved on Tuesday, the first day in office for 3/5ths of the county board. Who would approve a multi-million dollar building project on their first day in office?

I am exceedingly glad, therefore, that the board did not sweep the issue under the rug and for that I thank them. I am confident that when the April deadline comes along they will look at the information fairly and logically and make a wise decision.

What can we do while the county and the library folks get their ducks in order? We can begin by giving money to the Nobles County Library Foundation, established under the Worthington Area Foundation. This will show the county that people are serious about wanting this library and that they are willing to pony up to do so. This is the largest fund raising goal that the Worthington Area Foundation has ever committed to, and we are very excited to see how it goes!

If you’re interested, checks may be brought directly to the library and made out to “NCL Foundation”, or they can be mailed to:

Worthington Area Foundation
P.O. Box 373
Worthington, MN 56187
(507) 372-2919

Thanks, everyone. Here’s to a new library in our county!

New Year’s REVolutions

Posted on January 1, 2013 by gretcheno

I have never been a fan of New Year’s Resolutions. Too easy to break. Too easy to forget about. Too easy to ignore. In light of this fact, I have decided to rename them New Year’s REVolutions because, like a revolving door, they come and go faster than I can get through them.

And so, sticking to my resolution to ignore resolutions, I present you with a list of my personal hopes for the New Year (in no particular order). Just in case you’re wondering, these hopes do NOT include “get to the gym more often”, nor do they include “be more patient with my children”, two typical resolutions that many people the world over, make. The first one is excluded because, let’s face it, it’s not going to happen (though, possibly, I’ll get on the treadmill in the basement more often). The second one is excluded because, honestly, the need to be more patient with my children is a need that goes way beyond “hopes” or “resolutions” – it’s a matter of prayer.

So, my hopes for 2013: (or, if you will, my “revolutions”):

1) To learn the magical art of balancing my writing time, my blogging time, my cleaning/folding/washing/picking up time, my parenting time, my volunteering time, and my reading time.

2) To finish editing my last 100 pages of my book.

3) To find an agent who loves my book and for her (or him) to then find a publisher who loves it.

4) To begin writing the new book that has been brewing away on the back burner of my mind for the past several months.

5) To organize my “desk”, which is really the Dining Room table, so that we can actually use the table to eat together as a family.

6) To actually read the manual for my camera so that my photographs get better.

7) To stand before the county governing board next Tuesday (without my voice squeaking, my words getting muddled, or needing to run to the bathroom) and convince them that we need a new library in town.

8) To clean the deep, dark recesses of my house.

9) To finish my stint as a Girl Scout leader and not to be pressured into doing it for another year.

10) To be generous and kind and patient and forgiving and understanding and non-judgmental with everyone I come into contact with.

(I had to add that last one just to prove that I know that most of these “revolutions” are unrealistic and that I might as well just go all out and add a ridiculous one because then I’ll feel better about the other failed ones because I already know that my list is impossible. But no, I’m still not going to the gym more often.)

There. I have stood before you and I have spoken. We’ll have to see, come January 2014, how many of these hopes have come to fruition. I’ll keep you informed.

In the mean time, Happy New Year one and all! And my all your resolutions keep their resolve and not turn into revolving doors of shame.

‘Tis the Season for Christmas Pageants!

Posted on December 25, 2012 by gretcheno

Merry Christmas! How handy that my favorite holiday lands on a Tuesday, my favorite day to post. I know that many of you are busy today, and this entire week (okay, month) but I’m posting anyway because I have a few pictures and thoughts to share with you.

My topic? Christmas Pageants.

If you were a star, wouldn’t you use your prop as an air guitar, too?

Ever since I was a wee girl, singing “Away in a Manger” (in which, apparently, I sang, “The ‘tars in the ‘ky”) in the church Christmas program, I have loved Christmas pageants.

The very phrase conjures up images of dimpled angels with crooked halos; wooly and grumpy sheep sweating under the lights, their guardian shepherds wielding eye-poking crooks; and small boys wearing their father’s bathrobes, gaudy crowns perched rakishly on their heads. Who couldn’t love such a scene?

A few of the animals at the stable. In various degrees of happiness.

And don’t forget Mary and Joseph, two adolescent kids standing awkwardly side-by-side, gazing adoringly at a plastic doll and trying desperately not to look as if they despise each other while their mothers nervously wonder if, someday in the not-so-distant future, those two kids – who have, of course, known each other since diapers – could possibly ever be excited to be so linked.

Some moms are praying that they will. Some are praying that the casting is in no way prophetic and dreaming up ways to fake an angelic visit should such a thing ever be even a remote possibility. An angel that warns girls to run far away from boys until she is at least 22 and out of college.

Mary, of course, didn’t have that option. For several reasons.

The shepherds as they received the Good News!

But I didn’t mean to write about theology. Though, if you really think about it, the very scene I just described – the quintessential Nativity Scene (crèche/nursery/manger scene, depending on what country you hail from) – is, in and of itself, biblically inaccurate because the wise men didn’t make it to the manger. They came when Jesus was two. But those wee boys in their robes are just too cute a tradition to break.

The whole cast in all their glory.

But I digress. Again.

I love the annual Christmas program. I love the kids tripping over their costumes. I love the shepherds pretending that their staffs are lightsabers. I love the kid who holds the “M” card upside down, turning “C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S” into “C-H-R-I-S-T-W-A-S”.

Christ was what?

“Wise” men…always a debatable term…

But back to the pageants.

I love the tiny band, formed of kids still learning how to hold their instruments without bonking their neighbor with the fully-extended trombone slide. I love the off-key, ear-splitting racquet. “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord!” The band is my favorite.

That’s my boy!

I love the tone-deaf kid who sings his or her heart out, two beats behind the rest of the angelic choir. I adore that kid.

My favorite wee angel – one year ago.

I also adore the small, sweet voices that stumble over their lines. The bold voices who, I know, have worked nightly on their parts and stand with confidence before the microphone because they know this, though three weeks ago they feared they could never do it. (One girl, during this year’s program, gave her mom a wink after doing her line. It was priceless!) I love the expressive voices and I love the tentative voices, whose owners look at me, their die-hard director, encouraging them from the front pew, just needing that nod, that smile, to boost their confidence.

“You can do this!” I say with my grin. “Ignore Grandma and Grandpa in the audience. Don’t pay attention to Aunt Suzy’s video camera. Don’t be afraid!”

Don’t be afraid…“Fear not…The Lord is with you…Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished.” – Luke 1

And I do believe.

I love this photo.

C-h-r-i-s-t-W-A-S…Still is.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Last year’s whole cast.

Stockings: The Best Part of Christmas Morning!

Posted on December 18, 2012 by gretcheno

A few years ago I entered a holiday writing contest, hosted by my local newspaper (that would be The Daily Globe!). The theme of the contest was “Holiday Traditions” and from the moment I saw it advertised, I knew exactly what I needed to write about.

Stockings.

We don’t have a mantle…so they hang here until being stuffed!

In our family, Christmas stockings are the highlight of our Christmas traditions and, ultimately, of our Christmas day. There is no other part of Christmas that is so…sacred. (I probably shouldn’t use that word in the context…I mean… “sacred” is the whole point of Christmas…but setting that aside for the time being, let’s take “sacred” to mean – for the duration of this post – “THE MOST IMPORTANT THING ABOUT CHRISTMAS”!)

Okay, that being said, everyone looks forward to presents, right? I mean, when kids write letters to Santa, they don’t say, “Please bring me lots of tiny things that will fit into my stocking.” No, they say, “Please bring me a ball or a doll or a new bike.” Or, as in many of the letters from first graders that were printed in the paper yesterday, “ipods, ipads, computers, and a queen-sized bed”. Apparently kids are far more optimistic than they were in my day. Either that or more greedy.

My much-loved sock!

In our family, as in any other, presents such as these under the tree are anticipated with great joy. BUT…it is the stockings, full to over-flowing with fantasticness, that inspire the most glee. They are the first things to be opened on Christmas morning and they tide us over through breakfast as the presents beneath the tree continue to beckon.

Why is it that our stockings are so admired?

Because they’re magical. And they’re huge.

Way back when my father was a boy, his mother began the family tradition of knitting these wonderful stockings for her family. My father’s – knitted with wool yarn and still in working condition – was joined by a new stocking in 1958, again knitted by Grandma, when my mom married into the family. When my sister was born a few years later, Grandma got to work again. And so the tradition continued up until the time when Grandma could no longer remember how to work her needles and my sister – that first-born grandchild – took up the needles for the family. In 2013, we’re anticipating that she’ll have to knit two. Horray!

It's not right that mine is so much smaller than my son's. It's wool vrs. cotton yarn's fault...

It’s not right that mine is so much smaller than my son’s. It’s the fault of wool vs. cotton yarn, I think…

What is it about reaching into a bulging sock that is so marvelous? Why are the lumps and bumps and glimpses of things sticking out of the top so intriguing? I think that part of the thrill is the hinted-at-mystery – you get snippets of what’s inside, unlike with pristinely-wrapped gifts that reveal nothing of the contents within. Your imagine soars with a stocking! And, to top it off, you get to reach into a dark hole – something your mother cautions you against in normal life (“It could be a snake’s hole! Leave it alone!”) with no fear of what lies within. No biting, scratching, or hissing will send you running, squealing in fear. Squeals of delight are all that await the inquisitive hand on Christmas morning as it reaches down, down, down into the sock of wonder.

And what does that hand find at the bottom? What awaits you at the rounded toe?

An orange, of course.

My kids don’t get the orange. “Why do I want this?” one of them asked one year, holding the tangerine with furrowed brow.

“Because when your great-grandmother was a small girl in Scotland, an orange was a rare and expensive treat and having an orange in the toe of a stocking was a wonderful Christmas surprise!”

My child was unconvinced.

“Just eat it,” I said. “And be thankful. It’s tradition.”

Okay, even with huge stockings, sometimes we get a little carried away…

Holiday traditions. They can be strange and they can be wonderful. Our stockings fit both of those descriptions. Filled with everything from new socks (hey, they’re huge and need a few big things to take up space) to toys, candy, toothbrushes, books, novelties, ornaments, ties, hats, mittens and scarves.

Oh, and sometimes babies.

The best stocking stuffer ever!

Yes, they’re expensive to fill. But they’re marvelous to unpack.

I can’t wait ‘till Christmas morning!

Trying to make little sister happy with the jingle bells on her stocking…

P.S. – Though I won the contest, I can’t find the original story…sorry! It’s been several years and two computers since then. I have it in a physical file somewhere…in other words, it’s in some box under some bed which I’ll probably find when my kids are grown up and clearing out this house because they’re sending us to a retirement home.

Rudolf the Smooth-Nosed Reindeer

Posted on December 11, 2012 by gretcheno

Our tree in all its glory.

A few of my favorites. The bird was my grandmother’s, I believe. I made the polka-dotted ball a few years ago…

My grandmother’s Lifesaver clown. I’m guessing the candy is…oh…about 35 years old!

I love unpacking our Christmas things. I don’t even mind the mess, when, for a few days, boxes and storage tubs fill the living room and I can’t get the tree sap off of my elbow. I love unwrapping the tissue from each special ornament – and, truly, each one is precious to me. The ones I’ve had since childhood, the ones my grandmother or mother or sisters made, the ones my children created, the ones that carry memories of places and people – some who are no longer with us – that speak to me of family and friends and love…

The tree was a Grandma creation – the fabulous gingerbread man was made by my niece, years ago. My five year old daughter said, “This is kind of a weird ornament.” I said, “I love it. Hang it up.”

Okay, enough schmaltz. But, really, I do love them. I just am not usually so gushy about it. I’ve told my husband – more than once – that if we ever have a fire, getting out the Christmas boxes is his number one priority. After the kids, that is. And my computer. And my Cutco knives.

Boo made the white “bell” this year. She was attempting to make a snowflake and then decided that it was actually a bell.

I love taking every day things and making them ornaments…like this antique cookie cutter!

My son has picked up my tendency to use non-ornaments as ornaments. Though, to be sure, I wasn’t aware that the Death Star from Star Wars was very Christmasy…still, it’s quite marvelous!

Well, the knives can be replaced. But not so the Christmas decorations. There are some which should be replaced, probably. Like the Rudolf which came as a gift tie-on when I was a kid from one of those cheese-sausage-and-petit-four companies. I loved that Rudolf. I played with him so long that his fuzzy, sprayed-on red nose rubbed off and even my kids think he’s hideous but I won’t ditch him. “Mom, why don’t you throw him away?”

“Because he’s part of my history!” I replied, shocked, as I held him gently the other day. And then I put him back in the box rather than in the “to be put on the tree” pile.

Okay, now do you see why he’s not on the tree?

“Aren’t you going to hang him up?” the kids asked.

“Nope,” I said. “I’ve seen him. That’s enough.” They shook their heads at the unexplainable ways of their mother. I smiled to myself as I remembered making Rudolf run across piano keys and the branches of the 15 foot Christmas trees my dad would cut down from up the mountain behind our house. Those trees – so tall that they had to be tied to the beams across our cathedral ceilings – were part of my childhood too. Tossing Rudolf would be like tossing the memories. And, really, how much room does one four-inch Rudolf take up in the box? Please don’t answer that question.

This is Oscar. I’ve had him since I was wee. I’ve had to replace his shell a few times…

My husband’s aunt recently gave us this – it was his grandmothers. A lovely reminder of a lovely woman.

So many of our ornaments were made by loved-ones. My grandmother would make us all a felt, sequined ornament each year. As she aged, they became increasingly less fancy and also increasingly…odd…but that was okay. I love the tassel octopus just as much as the others. Though, admittedly, if I’m hanging the ornaments it will possibly be placed strategically at the back of the tree. The back needs covering, too!

Two of my grandmother’s creations, made in her prime.

The stocking was made by my aunt years ago. I made ones for my family to match. The marvelous snowman is one of my favorites made by my mother.

The stocking was made by my aunt years ago. The marvelous snowman is one of my favorites made by my mother.

My kids, of course, have been notorious for hanging ornaments on one branch. I think I counted 13 on one tiny twig one year. The older two don’t really do that anymore, but Boo, at age five, still does a little bit. I love it, though. But, yes, I admit that I tend to spread the love a bit after they go to bed. 13 is just a few too many for two inches of twig to handle. But I’m not nuts about moving their stuff. I want it to be their tree…not some magazine-perfect, untouchable thing.

A couple of my newer Swedish finds. I love these, too!

I always thought our tree was beautiful. Then I looked back at photos from previous years and suddenly it occurred to me that, possibly, it wasn’t as gorgeous as I thought it was. But who cares? I love it as it is and that’s what matters, yes?

The snowflake my middle sister made, the heart our oldest sister made. The blue ball is my son’s work of art, the girl on the swing is from Okinawa in the 60′s and the wonderful candycane rocking horse was another of my grandmother’s amazing creations.

More of my sister’s handiwork.

My oldest sister’s work again. Oh, to have her sewing machine!

And my kids love it, too. All three of them. They corrected me several times when I mistakenly identified certain ornaments as belonging to so-and-so but really they belong to someone else entirely. They know. And someday, when they head off to homes of their own, they’ll have a stash of their very own ornaments to decorate their trees with and I’ll be stuck with the tassel octopus.

Oh, and Rudolf of the rubbed-off nose.

This was from 2009 – looks pretty much the same from year to year, only with a few new ornaments hanging from its evergreen branches.

The obligatory night shot.

Tiny Doors of Mystery

Posted on December 4, 2012 by gretcheno

A very old Advent calendar kept by my mom. Isn’t it wonderful? There are angels…and also Santa inside, sitting at his desk, checking his list. So fun!

“Guess what?” I said to Boo, age 5, in an attempt to distract her grumpy self from the fact that she HAD to finish her toast, brush her teeth, and get dressed because the daddy-school bus would be leaving in 7 minutes.

“What?” she asked, frowning as she struggled into her shirt.

“Saturday is the first day of Advent!” I said, mustering all the excitement I could into my tone as I shoved her legs into her pants.

Boo’s Advent calendar from school. Each day she gets to color in a “button”. It’s awesome.

“What’s ‘Advent’?” she asked, a little curious despite her mood.

“It means that something important is coming,” I explained as I forced her feet into her shoes. “In this case, Christmas!”

“Advent calendars!” Boo exalted, remembering.

“Yep! Now stand up, let’s do your hair.”

Boo dutifully stood, and I looked at her feet.

I had put her shoes on the wrong feet. I had. Not her. me.

“Sit down,” I said, already ripping out the knots.

“I thought you were doing it wrong,” she said.

“Then why didn’t you say so?!” I asked a little crossly.

“I didn’t want to interrupt.”

As we somehow got her into the car along with her siblings, I wondered how on earth we’d be able to fit Advent calendar time into our morning routine. I mean, I might have to wake up a few minutes earlier in the mornings. Heaven forbid.

My Nativity drawing, circa 1975. How fun is this?!

But, the truth is, we love Advent calendars. Though, to be sure, our main one is rather non-traditional. A few years back I bought a felt banner of the Nativity scene – not just a picture, but rather many individual felt characters – wisemen, shepherds, Mary and Joseph, baby Jesus et al – and we began using that as our Advent calendar. I separated them out into little numbered bags, and each day they add to the scene, counting down to the day when the last image of all – Jesus – is placed into his manger.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, we have to keep careful track of who placed Jesus from year to year, otherwise it becomes a fight. Over baby Jesus. Not good.

Little by little, day by day, we count down to Christmas as we add to the picture.

This is what it looks like when it’s finished!

We love this “calendar” of ours…but we love the more conventional calendars with their tiny doors of mystery as well. I think it appeals to the love of all things miniature that is alive and well within me. Just as I loved my doll house as a child, I love the little numbered doors of the Advent calendars, the wee little pictures of jolly Christmas things hidden behind each opening.

Several years ago my kids made their own Advent calendars and I kept them – now rather ragged –because I couldn’t bear to part with them. My son actually spent quite a bit of his saved-up allowance money last year to buy a Lego Advent Calendar. It was pretty cool, though kind of humorous, too. As I said to him, “What says ‘Merry Christmas’ more than Darth Maul?”

My kid’s homemade Advent calendars from several years ago…not very fancy, but they had fun!

Last year we spent Christmas out in Washington State with my family. As we were unpacking parts of my sister’s German LGB train that runs around her Christmas tree, my mouth dropped open in surprise at something I found in the bottom of the box.

The box had come from our parent’s house and there, wrapped in tissue, was a picture I had drawn probably more than 35 years ago, and, along with it, two advent calendars that had been mine when I was a child.

Yes, I come by this love of Advent calendars honestly.

One of the old Advent calendars kept by my mom.

Today my aunt sent us an Advent calendar app for my computer. And, while it won’t ever be found, years from now, at the bottom of a box, it continues the tradition that my family loves: counting down the days to the celebration of Christ’s birth.

Thanks, Aunt Sandy! And Happy Counting to you all!

A couple “real” Advent calendars that I’ve kept over the years.

The View From my Window

(Which may be different from – but hopefully compatible with – the view from yours.)