Well, seeing how Christmas is a mixture of pagan and Christian traditions, I don’t believe God has a Christmas tree decorated with lights and cherubs.
I don’t believe He adorns the halls of Heaven with twinkling lights and bows of greenery.
I don’t believe the heavenly host rush around their kitchens making millions of divine delights for their annual cookie exchange.
I don’t believe God has shopping requests, or naughty or nice lists. (Though He does say all the names of those who have been washed in the blood of the Lamb have been written in His Book of Life)
I don’t believe December 25th is highlighted on God’s calendar.
God certainly is not a Santa, swooping down as earth sleeps, dropping gifts into chimneys. Continue reading
Yeah, Why Is That?
Had to share this one because it is funny and oh, so true!
Sharing image from Facebook
By ~ Elizabeth Yalian 2013 ©http://hiseyeisonthissparrow.com.
When I was a little girl, there was no money for toys. The freedoms and wealth from pre-communist days had been stripped from Cuba. Everyone became equal. Equally living in poverty, with food being rationed; and under the control of Fidel Castro. My family immediately planned on moving to the U.S.
Non-communists or gusanos (worms), were looked down on. My mom kept me from the neighborhood kids for protection, and so I wouldn’t pick up a communist attitude.
You would think an only child receives a lot of attention from family, but attention and affection were scarce in my home. I was often very lonely. I didn’t understand it then, but I longed for healthy interaction and relationships.
With 3 children born in 3 1/2 years, my life was busy in the 1980s. I had no nearby family to help with childcare, so I learned to improvise.
Rachel, 5 years old, was a good natured child. Once in a while, I let her be a big–girl. She could stay up and watch a video or we could have together-time, but only if she was quiet while the others napped. Rachel loved to be up with Mommy.
One day, I dared myself to paint the bathroom while the kids napped. I found a can of pretty miss-mixed paint for only a couple of dollars. Desperate for a change, I couldn’t pass up it up.
It took me longer than I thought to paint the small bathroom walls. Of course, as Murphy’s Law would have it, Jonathan, then 1 ½, woke up much earlier than usual. I heard him fussing in his crib and decided this would be a great time to let Rachel, who’d been watching a movie, be an even bigger girl. I needed our only bathroom to be usable before Hannah woke up. Continue reading
“Hey! Where’s my boots?”
When I was a new mom, my friend Karen (same Karen from Giggles and Grins at the Zoo) bought me a mug for my first Mother’s Day. The mug was white, illustrated with a stick figure mom and the caption “Bestest Mommy Ever” printed in colorful letters. It was made to look like a preschool child wrote it with crayons; some of the letters were backwards. I cherished that mug. Unfortunately, it broke years ago.
Last year, I was getting ready to go on a trip to Florida for Christmas, then we would swing over to Maryland to visit my daughter and toddler grandson. I had lots to do, so I embarked on one of those fit-everything-into-one-productive-day events.
First things first, I stopped at my chiropractor’s office for an appointment and got my neck and back adjusted. I shopped at several places and visited several banks, which meant standing at way too many check stand lines.
My very last chore for the day was Walgreens. As I stood in line to pay for my items, the lady behind me tapped me on the shoulder. Continue reading
Have you heard of ALDD? It stands for Adolescent Logic Deficit Disorder. It is a name I came up with to keep my sanity when I had no other way to explain my teenager’s complete lack of logic. Somewhere out there in a medical journal, I know there exists the scientific name for this adolescent condition. You may even recognize your teenager in this post.
When my son was about 16 years old, he got his first vehicle. It wasn’t much to speak of and certainly not a chick-magnet, but then since when did Jonathan need a magnet. He came out of the womb magnetized. The ladies at our church nursery called him, “The Flirt.” His friendly nature and dimply smile attracted many people. Continue reading