During our Christmas Eve service, I was focused intently on singing Angels We Have Heard on High when suddenly a little boy and his even littler sister started walking up to the front of the church. They were dressed up like Mary and Joseph, and their arms were extended in front of them like forklifts, their baby brother stretched across their arms.The big brother was responsible for the head; the big sister for the butt and legs.
Surprised, I half gasped-half laughed, and my eyes involuntarily welled with tears. And then, without even realizing I was doing it, I glanced behind them, looking for a wise man bearing a ham à la the Herdmans. And then, when I realized what I was doing, I really did laugh.
The mini Joseph and Mary tumbled their fat-cheeked, kicking brother into the wooden manger and stood guard over him, taking turns shoving his pacifier back in his mouth, while angels, shepherds, and a baby sheep (who was munching on a piece from her cotton ball-studded hat) gathered around them to stare into the manger.
That little scene may have been the highlight of my entire Christmas.
It snowed for Christmas!
Actually, it snowed the day before Christmas, but the white stuff lingered. There was enough snow on the ground for one Christmas morning sledding party before it melted away into nothingness. And then the next day we woke up to more snow, glory be!
The kids realize that they won’t be seeing one flake of snow for quite a few months and so they’ve made it their personal responsibility to play in it as much as possible.
The downstairs of our house is littered with boots and coats and gloves in varying degrees of sogginess. The upstairs is littered with huge pieces of luggage.
It’s a lot to wade through.
We’ve had a nice Christmas, but it hasn’t been easy. We are in the final days of packing. Our family is stressed and tired and anxious.
Up until now, I’ve been super excited. And I still am, lots of times. But now the excitement is tempered by a thick, choking sadness: the Goodbyes are coming. (If that sounds ominous, that’s because it feels ominous.)
Of course, I’m really, really, really glad I have people to say goodbye, too. I’m glad I’m sad to leave them because it means they matter, right? RIGHT! And we’ll get through the Goodbyes, and we’ll all be okay.
But still, being sad isn’t very much fun.
In fact, these rolls don’t actually belong under the title of “not really into it” since I really was into them. (I was probably into them a little too much, groan.)
Hot Buttered Rolls