Marathon Christmas

I grew up thinking this was normal.  I grew up thinking a lot of things were normal, myths my roommates have quickly dispelled.  You mean everyone doesn't have four Christmas trees and a 30-hour Christmas?  I supposed now you're going to tell me everyone has more than three cousins, too, right?

Christmas Eve
3:00pm- "Get in the car now!"

4:00pm- We start Christmas where all Christmases should begin: in church.  We pass the bulletin from one end of the pew to the other, share notes, and split a half a piece of gum thirteen ways.  You think I'm kidding.

6:00pm- "And WHY are you snow blowing in your Christmas suit?"
All thirteen of my maternal side of the family is gathered in my aunt and uncle's kitchen.  We're munching on meatballs, shrimp, and the world famous cheese dip.  We need something in the stomachs as we begin a long night of alcohol consumption.

7:00pm- "Maybe we should open presents." 
"Yes, that bow is beautiful on your head." 
"What kind of tape did you use?  It's impossible to rip!"

8:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma get a fifteen minute head start (we even use the microwave timer) to light candles and turn on lights before the entire party mobilizes to Grandpa and Grandma's house.  We open presents first from my grandparents and second from my aunt and uncle from out of town.

9:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma serve us pizza subs on paper plates just to have some substance during our night of grazing.  "Sure, I'd love some blackberry wine."

10:00pm- My family's turn for the fifteen minute head start.  There are advantages and disadvantages to being the last house in the round-robin.  The biggest disadvantage is that the hair and makeup need remedial help before the photograph in front of the tree.

11:00pm- "Who wants to be Santa?"

12:00am- Grandpa and Grandma decide it's time to go home.

1:00am- "Someone has to eat my food!"

2:00am- We karate chop the remaining family out of here, clean up the kitchen, and set up for the morning.  Time for bed!

For the next four to six hours visions of sugar plums dance in our heads while Santa flies over head.

Christmas Day
8am- "Santa's been here!"

9am-  The family gift exchange and Santa presents are opened on Christmas morning.  Dad gets coal.  And the grille to go with it.  Mom cries when she opens the puzzle photo collage of my sisters and me growing up.  My flannel jeans from Cabela's miraculously fit!  "Dad, I got you a six pack of beer just because I can.  No, I don't want one." 

10am- "Get in the car!  We're late!"

11am- "Are we there yet?"

12pm- Growing up, my family was always the last to arrive at my paternal grandparents' house.  Some traditions die hard.  Christmas dinner will be served at two.  I regret not eating more than a banana for breakfast and dive into the chips, fudge, and pie on the kitchen table.

1pm- I'm in a photo war with Travel Buddy, my uncle who's a professional photographer.  I take literally 178 photos.

2pm- The Charlie Brown Tree. 
Every year my grandparents go to the tree farm and find the most ridiculous tree in the $5 bin.  It's too thick to put ornaments on it.  It's so thin you can see through it.  It has two tops.  They then barter until the owner lets them buy the tree for $3.  They give him a $2 tip.  This year the tree branches needed to be transplanted, so they got it for $2 with a $1 tip.  Remember, the camera adds ten pounds.

3:00pm- "This restaurant is only open twice a year, so you'd better dig in!"
Thanksgiving dinner is remarkably similar to Christmas dinner.  The main difference is that the men are actually allowed to sit in the dining room with the women rather than being banished to the kitchen.  We pass rolls by overhand tossing, make the misbehaving adults sit at the children's table, and, heaven forbid, we forget the olives.

5:00pm- Photo shoot! 
Each family.  "At least pretend like you like each other."  All the girls.  All the boys.  "Stop that!"  Three generations.  "Where'd Grandpa go now?"  All the granddaughters.  All eleven of us.  The stray people we picked up on the street.  All dogs.  "Ok, my camera's memory card is full."

6:00pm- "Yes, I'd like a brandy old fashion, please.  We're going to be here for awhile."
Commence the longest present opening extravaganza in the history of present openings.  Grandma hands the first present to Tina.  Tina opens it, throws the wrapping paper on the floor, and examines it for fifteen and a half seconds before she must stand to pick and hand out the next present.  If she surpasses her allotted fifteen and a half seconds, the entire crowd shouts, "PICK A PRESENT!"

7:00pm- Fifteen minute intermission to fill the glasses and empty the bladder.

7:15pm- "Pick a present!"

8:00pm- "PICK A PRESENT!"
Every year Grandma and Grandpa give each of their four grandkids a gold ornament engraved with our names, the year, and "Love, Gma & Gpa."  After twenty-some years, Wal-mart stopped making the ornaments, so Grandma had to get creative.  This year she bought some silver ones from Target and engraved them herself.

9:00pm- "Pick a present" brouhaha is finally over after three hours of present opening!  Grandma and the four granddaughters sit in the heaps of wrapping paper for the annual photo.  Grandma boasts that she is 71 and can still get down on the floor.  We help her up.

10:00pm- Grandma asks who brought the iPod for the traditional Christmas Day dancing in the kitchen.  No one has music; no one has the energy to dance.  The men are Wii bowling in the kitchen.  Grandpa's winning.  "That's an awful nice purple dress you've got there, Jim," Greg says, and the crowd rolls.  Grandpa's using my Mii.

11:00pm- The food comes back out for those who are hungry.  I eat some cherry pie, little smokies, sweet potatoes, and fudge.  In that order.  "Shhhhh!  Someone may be sleeping."

12:00am- That someone should be me.  But we're having too much fun retelling old stories, hacking up lungs, and laughing hysterically.

1:00am- That someone is me.  It's the only night of the year when I can sleep with socks on because of the heat problems in the old farmhouse.  Yet I sleep with a smile on my face.  Another great Christmas!

I love hearing about Christmas traditions.  What are yours?

<>< Katie

Faith, Hope, Joy, Love

Christmas is finally here!  School is on a hiatus while people become cooking maniacs and wrapping machines.

The traditions rooted deeply except I don't really think Mary and Joseph sat around staring at dead trees and eating candy out of their socks.

I bet they were exhausted from traveling and discouraged by the lack of places to stay.  Then Mary gave birth in the most unsanitary place ever; oh, yeah, and her fiance isn't the father.  Now all of the animals want to know where they're supposed to be eating for the next several days because there are some unexpected visitors.  Shepherds are being visited by terrifying angels, and magi come bearing expensive gifts--one of which was a burial spice.  I think most modern parents would be offended if someone gave them embalming fluid at a baby shower.  Just saying.

Big mess! Big message!

God became man.  The creator of the universe shoved Himself into a little baby's body.  Prophesies and promises fulfilled.  Christ, our Lord, born to die for our redemption.

About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.


While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.
There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God's angel stood among them and God's glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."

At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:

Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.

As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed.

Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!

(Luke 2:1-20 MSG)

It's a story of real people having the FAITH to do what God called them to do--even if it was uncomfortable.

It's a story of the HOPE given to the world in the form of a baby.

It's a story about JOY bundled into an unusual package.

It's a story about the LOVE my Savior has for me. The LOVE He has for you.

Merry Christmas!  Have a blessed day, my friends!
<>< Katie

Christmas Wishes from the Fire Department

Somewhere between ten and eleven on Sunday night reality hit.  It was bedtime and we still had "miles to go before [we] sleep and miles to go before [we] sleep."  Three hours worth of miles.

I offered to switch and drive for awhile, but Amber pointed out that might be futile since I was yawning too.  She said she'd just curl up and go to sleep rather than keep me awake, but I wouldn't fall asleep while she was driving.  Probably true.  A few days earlier we'd learned the hard way that her reaction time is good even when she's tired.

Hit was a sudden, God-send burst of energy, I began the most animated, elaborate retelling of one of my favorite Christmas Eve stories. Followed by three hours worth of other stories, laughter, and no yawns at all. 

It was Christmas Eve afternoon and I was almost done getting ready for the traditional brouhaha when the smoke detector went off.

As a teenager, what to do in case of a fire had been drilled into my head.  I went out the garage door and passed both cars in the garage.  I found out later that my sisters were in the car ready to go, unaware that the smoke detector was going off.  When I rounded the house and headed towards our "meeting place" I realized there is a flaw in our plan: snow makes the meeting place hard to get to.  But it didn't matter because I saw both of my parents just chilling in the kitchen.

I opened the backdoor and walked back in.  Apparently my mom had spilled something in the oven earlier in the day and wanted to clean it out before everyone came over.  She used the self-cleaner oven feature for the first time and it set the smoke detector off.  Other than a hazy house, everything was fine.

The security system on our house is supposed to call the police if our house is broken into and fire department if the smoke detector goes off.  We were literally five minutes away from leaving for six hours.  We didn't want to come home (with the entire extended family fifteen minutes behind us) to discover our door had been broken down because we didn't answer.

Dad called the non-emergency fire department number to tell them everything was fine.

Fireman: Since you called, we have to send a truck out.

Great.  Although, we later learned if the security system had called they would have sent trucks from two different stations because we're right in the middle between the two.  As it were, the other station got an ambulance call around the same time.  I like to think that in inconveniencing ourselves we saved a life.  Whatever, Katie.

Anyway.  Fire truck came.  Big flashing lights.  Alarmed neighbors called.  Firemen stood in the back hall and listen to our crazy story.  They didn't even go into the kitchen!  They left.  Dad called the security system people to make sure the fire department isn't going to be called again.  Ultimately, against their advice, he disconnected our security system.

We showed up to my aunt and uncle's church a half hour late.  My cousin's choir, the reason we were going to church there, was returning to their seats.  We did make the pastor's day because the sanctuary was full, so they put seats in the atrium for us.  This is why we don't save seats on Christmas Eve anymore.  You never know when some firemen are going to make you late to church.

After church we began our normal round-robin at my aunt and uncle's house.  Food, drinks, presents, cookies, moving on.  The entire party of 13 journeyed to my grandparents' house for a repeat.  Food, drinks, presents, cookies, moving on.

Our house was the last in our parade.  We are also the only house with a functioning fire place.  My uncle from out of town wanted to roast chestnuts over our fire.  It made the kitchen a little smokey, but we didn't think anything of it.

Until my aunt shouted, "FIRE IN THE OVEN!"

Some bread dish--the same dish that had spilled earlier--was literally flaming inside of our oven.  That's bad.  One uncle grabbed a hot pad, pulled out the pan, and held it over the sink.  The other uncle blew out the flames.  Dad took the scorched pan and threw it in a snowbank in the back yard where it stayed for the next three days.

Of course, the fire alarm went off again and the house is full of smoke.  For the second time that day we opened all of the windows to let the frigid winter air into our home and the smoke out into the world.  I'm pretty sure the temperature in my kitchen was below freezing that Christmas.  I camped out in the basement, the warmest place in the house.

No more chestnuts roasting over an indoor fire.  No more flaming bread dish.  Just a great Christmas tale.  And a year full of photos with the fire extinguisher in them.

About a week later my mom's oven still needed to be cleaned.  So she set the self-cleaner again and opened the kitchen window.  She was on the phone with my aunt when she heard sirens in our area.  It's not really that uncommon because there are two deadly traffic corners within a mile of our house.  Except this was a fire engine siren.  Getting closer.  And closer.  And closer.

Mom: I've got to go.  That firetruck is coming down our street.

It stopped two houses away where they had a small electrical fire.

I hope this Christmas there are no unexpected guests.  Especially those that drive a big red vehicle and wear yellow suits.  Happy December First!

<>< Katie