trimming the holidays

Oh, the holidays! Today my MOPS discussion group came over to make no-sew blankets- the kind made of fleece with tied fringe. We made the blankets to donate to the Office of Childrens' Services because the social workers will give a blanket to each child taken into foster care. I've heard that the local quilting guild donates quilts for Project Linus, which is for these same children in state custody. I've read that there are about 150,000 children in foster care in America and I ache to be a part of caring for those children. Right now I can no-sew a blanket. So there were seven women in my home today, and 14 children under the age of seven. We made almost a dozen fleece blankets. The above picture shows most of our blankets and a little of my creative side. I really tried hard to find a way to put my cranberry wreath in the picture because that thing took F O R E V E R to make. I came home from Karla DeLong's annual wreath party with an evergreen wreath for my front door, and that cranberry wreath only 1/32nd of the way finished. Ashley helped me with the remaining 700 toothpicks and cranberries, and now that wreath is proudly displayed... hanging over our front porch outlet box. I lacked the perseverance to find ribbon and a nail. I feel entitled to some pride anyways.

Our holiday is flying by... probably because of the wreath parties and blanket-making parties and all such things that have already reserved our hours and days in December, but we are also taking time to make this season a holiday. We've decorated our tree, which is a unique adventure with two preschoolers: they race to out-perform one another with the ornaments, meaning they seem to be competing for who can put the most ornaments in the tiniest clump. A special tradition for me and Ash is redecorating the tree during naptime.

We are also still trying to get out for walks (because I can't stop making holiday peanut butter fudge and holiday peanut butter and chocolate kiss cookies). Lately, we've been choosing to walk across nearby Lake Lucille. I've liked how wide open the frozen lake is for our walks. I don't worry about crossing paths with moose out there, and it is good to let Molly, our dog, run loose. I'm so charmed by my son on these walks, too, because he often walks more than he rides and is prone to jog. He never complains, unlike our daughter, and I want to kiss his chapped face when he tries to help his big sister by pulling her himself. Our Charlotte can be so tough about some things, but she has never been one for walks. I try to tell her that God might one day lead her to climb the world's tallest mountains, and walk the farthest distances in order to tell lonesome nomadic tribes about His son, Jesus. I ask, "Will you complain like this if God gives you such a privilege?" She'll probably require therapy for these sorts of pep-talks, but I am trying my best here. I was content to let her fall behind and learn a hard lesson about perseverance (ironic, I know, considering my earlier paragraph about the cranberry wreath), but Liam was chivalrous. He stepped in to pull his sister. Maybe he'll find those nomadic tribes and Charlotte will find people more urban to love.