Sorry if you've got a Santa hanging out on your mantel with the shepherds and the Wise Guys, but I've always been in the Gag Me camp.
I know some people love incorporating Jolly Old Saint Nick into their beloved creche scenes, melding legend with the holy, but as for me, no no no.
Not to offend anyone, but just the sight of Kris Kringle kneeling in the straw gives me a bad case of chiggers. What's next? Might I suddenly forget the words to Silent Night and burst into a chorus of Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer?
But now that I've seen the video below, I can sorta (kinda) understand the idea. It's Grammy nominated, Dove award winning singer/songwriter Kyle Matthews singing "Everything Santa Knows," a song that has me changing my tune on the Santa front. A friend of Kyle's made the video with his kids and it's really fun to watch. And careful, if you're the tiniest bit of a Santa scrooge like me, it might even get you thinking!
I'm sure I'll still keep Santa a safe distance from the holy babe, but I get the intention. The guy in the red suit is an admirer, just like the rest of us. And I have to say, a bit of a copycat. (Just kidding, Santa. Love you!) Enjoy, friends!
"...Ive been trying to get down To the heart of the matter But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter But I think its about forgiveness Forgiveness..."
Do you ever turn on the radio and wonder if God is trying to tell you something? We were bopping down the road on Sunday, headed for college with a load of stuff too big for Sarah's little car, when Don Henley preached me a message.
Hadn't I just been thinking about forgiveness? A couple of teens whom I know and love had come to me, frustrated. I listened to their anger and remembered the time long ago when the veil fell and I discovered that adults were just as messed up as everyone else. That they do things they know that are wrong. That they make big mistakes, give in to their weaknesses, and then they put on their Sunday clothes, take a seat in the pew, and pretend nothing ever happened. Or maybe that's just what it looks like.
I'd listened to the sadness in their voices, the anger at hypocrisy, and I nodded at the feelings I knew so well. I'd said the same thing years ago. What could I tell them?
I reminded them that we're all human, that we all make mistakes. I fed them the line someone told me, (old but true,) that church isn't a museum for saints, but a hospital for sinners. And I said that this is exactly why Grace is so Amazing. It didn't satisfy them or make them feel much better, really.
I finally stopped talking, remembering my own disappointment. It's taken years for life to teach me about grace. In fact, I'm still trying to learn it, to give grace and forgiveness to others, to forgive and give grace to myself. Grace is God-born. No wonder it's so impossible to patch it together on our own.
No worries, Becky. God will teach them how to do it. They'll need grace and forgiveness themselves, and they'll learn to share it with others.
Don Henley finished his song, and then Todd turned on his Ipod. First song? "What Was It That I Just Said," by John Gorka.
...It's not just that my pride's been hurt Not just that my heart's been bruised Fell down on my big ideas It's gotten me a bit confused
Unless you are a true bad boy Your conscience is a constant threat Time for a new idea One to discard regret
Prime time to forgive Prime time to forget What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said?
Oh, worry's such a waste of time It's better not to second-guess Maybe I should just pick a town One where I never made a mess
Move along when the crowd is right Stand alone when the crowd is wrong I always had the lone wolf ways Distilled the instinct to get to gone
Prime time to forgive Prime time to forget What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said?
Okay, God. I hear You! Maybe I ought to carry around an Ipod when kids talk to me. Do you have any other forgiveness songs to add to my list? :)
Other thoughts on forgiveness? What would you tell my young friends?
These gorgeous ladies from my church circle do. And no, that's not Santa there on the couch, far right. That's me, with the combination of incredibly poor posture and the pinkish sweater that gives me either a nine month old fetus or Santa's jelly belly, which I really don't have. (Not much of one, that is.) I would have used a different photo, but the other one made me look like Santa had replaced the eggnog with straight rum, no ice.
So back to the caroling. I had the best time at our Christmas party last week because guess what we did. No, I'm not talking about the Christmas trees and stars we tore out of paper with our eyes closed. We stood around the piano and sang Christmas carols! Yes we did! Silly ones, holy ones, ones we knew the words to and others we didn't. (Hint: for ones you don't know, just mouth the word watermelon over and over again and no one will know the difference.) Singing carols at the piano was SO FUN! I plan to force my family to do it! You heard right, kids! It's going to be great! Sorry for all the exclamation points, but they're absolutely necessary.
What about you? Do you do this, or does the cheese factor of such a Norman Rockwell moment frighten you a bit? I say, DIVE INTO the cheesiness. Embrace it. You'll be surprised how it fills your heart with Christmas joy.
Before you go, a couple questions. Which carol would you insist on singing? One that drives you crazy? Favorite new one? Old one?
As for me, here's my list of notables: Silver Bells--from the Christmas album my family used to play Little Donkey--taught to me by a British friend during our French life Il est né le Divin Enfant--also from our French life. It's so lovely. Silent Night--no explanation necessary. It's not Christmas without it, sung by candlelight. But in my opinion, you can leave We Three Kings off the list. I love the melody, but my brain won't stop replacing the words with "tried to smoke a rubber cigar. It was loaded and exploded..."
Now it's your turn. Please share! And while you're at it, won't you learn the words to the carol below? It's one of my favorites and nobody knows it. Love, Becky
Hi Ho Silver! Does your inner genius need a jolt? Follow me over to Jayme McGowan's blog, Roadside Projects, and watch the dial of your meter-o'-creativity spin out of control! What a wonder-land! Take a look at the magic she works with paper. Her art is like a good book, transporting you to another world. How perfect! The title of the above work is A Good Book. You can find it in this good book here.
Wouldn't it be fun to find that under your tree Christmas morning? Or better yet, one of her creations! You can find them at her etsy shop. And if you can't afford the original works, you can buy yourself a print. I'm in love with this one.
But I like the movement of this one too. Time to go! If only I had that magic bicycle! Think how quickly I could get my Christmas errands done on that!
Have a terrific Friday and a super weekend, y'all! Love, Becky
MERRY CHRISTMAS, CHARLIE BROWN! And Merry Christmas to you too!
I don't know about you, but I have such mixed up feelings about television. Some days I'd gladly chuck our sets to the curb if it weren't for the mutiny I'd cause in my household. Other days I want to wrap my arms around my television and give it a great smooch. Like on Sunday nights, after Mad Men, or on Saturday nights, after the British comedies on PBS. Or during THE ENTIRE CHRISTMAS SEASON!
Every year I can't wait to curl up in my bed with my youngest child and watch Pig Pen promise to be a very neat innkeeper, Winter Warlock cry tears of regret, and Snow Miser and Heat Miser bicker on the phone while Mrs. Claus plays peacemaker. It makes my toes curl with happiness.
So what about you? What's your favorite Christmas show on TV? Do share! Have a wonder-full Wednesday, y'all! Love, Becky
Did you trim your tree this weekend? My tannenbaum has been crouching naked in my living room since Thanksgiving, and I had such lovely visions of circling the tree with my family on Saturday, hot cocoa in hand, warm in the glow of the Christmas lights and the memories. Unfortunately, it didn't happen. Yet. (I still have hope.) But something glorious did happen, something completely selfish, though my family didn't seem to notice or mind (except at dinner time.) The something made me feel rested and satisfied and ready for Christmas: a book took over Decorating Day.
The book is Cold Mountain. Yes, the one that came out way back before Sam was even born, the book that sent Todd over the moon. He begged me to read it and promised that I'd love it so much that I'd want to name the child in my womb Ava or Inman. I was unmoved. I have this problem that whenever books get lots of hype, I can't make myself read them, no matter how glowing the reviews. I always give in after the hoopla has died down, once nobody wants to gush about them anymore. I don't know why I'm like that.
Anyway, I noticed it on a bookshelf on Friday afternoon, and finished reading the last page around 11 pm Saturday night. The tree was still naked, the laundry piles had grown, and my family was in serious need of vitamins, but I felt completely elevated, improved, just by reading the words, by knowing the characters and their story.
Maybe I'm just basking in the afterglow, but Cold Mountain gave me all that great writing can offer: an opportunity to deepen my experience with courage and honor, hope and pride, compassion and pity and sacrifice. (William Faulkner's words, not mine. :) ) After loving the book so much, I'm not sure I want to see the movie. Did you see it? What did you think? The trailer is beautiful, but it makes the story out to be all about the Civil War, which it's really not. Thoughthis clip has got to be the most romantic scene of all time. (Have a cold washcloth handy if you dare to watch it. It will make you swoon.)
Cold Mountain made me think of two other novels that recently moved me deeply, that also depict broken people trying to survive, to make the best of life that they can, to find beauty and truth and love. You probably read them long ago but I'll share them just the same, along with a few non fiction books I've enjoyed this year. Won't you tell me your latest faves? Now that I'm all rested, I'm ready to go shopping. Books make the perfect gift! First, the two novels: You must read this beautiful book. It's set in Crosby, Maine, and the thirteen short stories are linked together through the character of Olive Kitteridge. If I didn't know she was a fictional character, I'd swear she must be a distant cousin to grumpy Madame Mallet, from the pages of my French life. I've already read this book twice and have started on a third time. Hopefully I can hold off until after Christmas, or I may never get my cards sent out!
This is a horrifying, amazing book. It will stun and disgust you, but I don't know that I've ever any depiction more beautiful of the love a father has for his son.
So those are my three favorite works of fiction I've read this year. But there are works of non fiction that I've loved as well, all memoir. (Surprise, surprise. My favorite genre.)
When Timothy Tyson was ten years old, a young black man was murdered in Timothy's hometown of Oxford, North Carolina. This is the story of his quest to understand what happened. I'll never be able to forget this book, nor would I want to.
I found this book in my church library, took it home and promptly fell in love with it. It's #1 on my Christmas list. (Listening, Santa?) It's all about finding the sacred in everyday life, my favorite topic in the whole wide world.
I finished this book a few weeks ago, one woman's collection of stories of grace, discovered all over the world.
And lastly, this sweet one. The cover and title are PERFECT! It's the memoir of a Southern Baptist preacher's kid, and it's hilarious and touching and I loved every minute.
Won't you share your favorite books of the year with me? Have a wonder-full Monday, y'all! Love, Becky PS. If you've got a teen girl on your list or just enjoy young adult fiction, you've got to look at the Miracle Girl series. I LOVED Anne and May's chic lit books, so I knew they'd be good. I've only read the first one so far, but I found it smart, witty, and true to life. (And having teens in my house, I should know.) Plus they're friends of mine and lovely people. Go Anne and May! And go Cold Mountain! Better late than never!
Do you believe in ghosts? (Besides the Holy one, I mean.) If you asked me, I'd say, "Of course not," but I still might check behind the shower curtain when nobody's looking. (I'd be more worried about Norman Bates than any of Casper's relatives.)
After all, everybody knows that ghosts only show up in Scooby Doo mysteries, and then they're not really ghosts at all but the work of mentally deranged innkeepers who would have gotten away with it if it weren't for those meddling kids.
I've always assumed that ghosts and ghost busters are only in the movies (along with the Stay Puft marshmallow man.) People see what they want to see, don't they? But then my completely sane husband came home yesterday from a business trip to Nova Scotia with a story that's rattled me a bit. See what you think.
Whenever Todd goes to Nova Scotia, the Michelin travel people reserve him a room at the Blomidon Inn, the local bed and breakfast pictured in the Courier & Ives scene above. I should tell you that my husband is not really a B&B kind of guy. He'd rather have a big TV in the room than rocking chairs on the porch, and he doesn't cotton to sitting with a table full of stranger ladies for tea. We did B&B's plenty in France, and it was a lovely way to spend a vacation once we got used to it, but when he works? Not so much. When he works, he wants to work, sleep, then repeat. So he just ignores the doilies. It's always worked out fine.
And why shouldn't it be fine? Look at the beautiful rooms! The place is full of gorgeous antiques, big fluffy beds that require a step stool...
Tons of mahoghany and teak...
Flickr photo by west.advocate And plenty of old paintings with googly eyes that follow you all around, just like in Scooby Doo. (Do you see a pattern here?) Check out the eyes in the painting above. Those belong to Captain Burgess, the wealthy sea captain and ship builder who built the stately Victorian as a home for his family.
"I felt uneasy the whole night," Todd told me. "I know it sounds crazy, but it felt like somebody else was in the room. I hardly slept." If you know my husband, then you know that he's built like a football player and is very brave. (Except for the time years ago when we heard a noise in the garage and he threw me out in front of him when he opened the door. But I promised I wouldn't bring that up again.) He flipped channels and dozed on and off, all night long.
So the next morning at the factory, he told a coworker about his rough night. The coworker wasn't surprised one bit, and shared a couple stories of his own. One involved a mutual friend of theirs (a PhD chemist, if that helps you believe it.) She stayed in Captain Burgess' room on her last business trip and woke up around 3 am to find Captain Burgess standing at the foot of the bed! "Why are you in my bed?" the image asked her. She promptly threw her things in a suitcase, ran to her rental car, and checked into a different hotel.
Crazy, huh? A waitress at the inn said it happens all the time. What do you think? Do you believe it, or should we track down the innkeeper and check for a mask?
Have a great weekend, y'all! Love, Becky PS. Now I can't stop thinking about this...
In the craziness of the Christmas season, I keep trying to call forth the peace and stillness that the shepherds might have shared on the silent grazing fields. But then I remember that the angels came and kind of blew that away with heavenly Joy. Now, if I could just focus on the joy part, and not so much on the nutty run-around-like-a-chicken-with-my-head-cut-off part.
So in the spirit of Christmas JOY, enjoy dancing with Santa's helpers. Maybe when they're done with their fun, they can attack our To Do lists! Have a fabulous Wednesday, y'all! Love, Becky
Maybe a little explanation is in order. We had a remarkably peaceful Thanksgiving holiday thanks to our pesky winter companion Strep Throat. It attacked Sammy's tonsils on Turkey-Day Eve, stomping all over our travel plans to climb both sides of our family tree. What could we do? We stayed home.
We missed seeing our family, but it wasn't all bad. We found a turkey last minute and spent the break eating until we were sleepy and sleeping until we were hungry, all from the comfort of our warm little nest. And we watched movies. Can you guess which movie I fell in love with all over again?
If you need a good dose of innocence and Christmas cheer, allow me to prescribe a trip through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gum drops, and out the Lincoln Tunnel. It's perfect Christmas fun.
You get to see old friends... And meet new ones. Not to mention make snow angels, ice skate, eat plenty of snacks from the four basic groups (candy, candy canes, candy corns and syrup,) and chug it all down it with a big mug of the World's Best Coffee. And then snuggle.
You might even see You Know Who!
Just be sure he's the real deal. (Hint: Impostors smell like beef and cheese.)
So, are you as Elf crazy as I am? Don't be a cotton-headed ninny-muggins. Tell me your favorite part. And don't forget, the best way to spread Christmas Cheer is singing loud for all to hear!
Have a wonder-full Monday. Love, Becky PS. You have such a pretty face. You should be on a Christmas card!
Do you ever wish you could live inside a book? Or bring bits of that world into yours? You're not alone. The shops at Etsy are full of bookish souvenirs, and people are buying. And why not? Photo by OrderedChaos.etsy.com A wand on your coffee table might bring back the magic of first discovering Ollivander's.
I've been thinking about bookish souvenirs ever since two things happened: 1. We took Ben for a college trip to Duke and found out it has a Quidditch team. (Yes, they really do. Though I'm not sure that's worth the price of a Duke education.) 2. I started recreating the outhouse door from this favorite book of my husband's. You read correctly: an outhouse door. My husband and his friend Butch LOVE Lonesome Dove and quote it to each other whenever they get together. The door is important in the book because it keeps showing up in different forms: first as an actual outhouse door, then as a sign for the ranch the two main characters run together, then as the casket door when Gus dies. Finally, Call takes it apart and uses it as a cross for Gus's grave. So when it came time to give Butch a housewarming present for the apartment/airplane hangar he just built, (Butch is sort of a cowboy of the skies, and the building was a dream of his and his wife Alice before she died) Todd came up with the outhouse door idea. Luckily he found a photo of the prop used for the TV miniseries.
It was a really fun project to work on. I know it's kind of a weird gift, but Butch is crazy about that book. (I love that Butch's silhouette shows up in that photo.)
Maybe when people invest themselves fully into a book they love, they can't bear for it to end. Having something tangible to hold helps them keep the story alive. When we travel to far off lands, we bring home souvenirs. Aren't props from books the same sort of thing? What do you think?
Would this treasure from The Da Vinci Code be too geeky for you? You can buy it at Sky Mall, you know. Along with all sorts of strange things. I might not put a shiny new cryptex on my Santa list, but I will admit to touring Saint Sulpice the last time I was in Paris. (If you read/saw The Da Vinci Code, you know why.)
Now here's a souvenir I'd love to have. Photo by www.Brookish.etsy.com Does that quote sound familiar to you? It's Mr. Darcy's proposal line to Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
If your Christmas is just not complete without Dickens' A Christmas Carol, then you need this ornament. Inside are quotes from the story. Great idea, huh? Photo by www.Brookish.etsy.com
If Catcher in the Rye is one of your favorites, you might enjoy this painting. Photo by www.AQuartzyLife.etsy.com
Can you guess which book inspired this necklace? Photo by www.MadameTeasley.etsy.com It's To Kill a Mockingbird. The artist writes: This necklace depicts Boo with a pair of scissors, a red crystal for a drop of blood, and a clear crystal because it seemed that he could tell the future-- he was there when Scout and Jem needed him.
This is such fun that I just might do book presents for my whole family this year. Here's my only problem: Todd is hinting for an outhouse door to match Butch's. Call me crazy, but I'm not hanging an outhouse door in our living room. I would let Todd pick out another book gift, but I'm afraid I know what he'd choose. Around this time of year he likes to quote from this book. Can you guess what souvenir he'd pick?
I like an eclectic style, but be assured that it doesn't include that lamp.
If you could have any keepsake from a book you love, what would it be? I'd love to hear about it! Have a wonder-full weekend, y'all! Love, Becky
PS. If any of these souvenirs interest you, a click on the photo should zap you over to its Etsy shop. Or maybe you'd prefer Edward's Volvo instead.
Does the barcode on a can of beans look like art to you? It might, if you live in Japan.
A few days ago, after I finished rolling on the floor laughing over engrish.com (and remembering how my own goofs kept the entire French city of Clermont-Ferrand entertained,) I moseyed over to the site's blog for a look-see. I will never badmouth barcodes ever again. At least I won't if we start using the Japanese ones! Look!
Aren't those great? I found them at engrish.com's page, here. These geniuses designed them. Why not enjoy a few more?
How fun! Of course, the folks at www.d-barcode.com aren't the only ones to make art from barcodes.
Thanks to artist Scott Blake, you can own your very own barcode art. And so can your dog! Photo by Scott Blake Click on the dog to zoom over to his etsy store, and be sure to check out his websiteas well. His barcode portraits are incredible. See what I mean?
So what do you think? Would you like to see your face in barcodes? Do you wish we could banish the barcode and return to the days of the tiny sticky price tag? Personally, I'd love to find some barcode creativity on my next stop to the Bi-Lo.
Photo by engrish.com How I love engrish.com. Have you two met? If you've ever struggled with a second language, you must bebop over there and take a look around. I'm serious. March right over there, young lady. Hop to it, mister. But be warned: you might want to wear a diaper. Or maybe that's just me.
Oh, how it thrills me to read things like this. Photo by engrish.com That's probably because the signs and posters and advertisements remind me of the millions of times during my French life when I tried to literally translate my words and they came out wonky. You think I'm kidding? Read my book. Or read Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. I especially recommend the chapter in which he tries to explain Easter in his pitiful French. It makes me weep with happiness.
It's a good thing that when people hear others trying desperately to speak their language, their hearts swell with tenderness. And they look upon them in the same way that one would gaze at a newborn babe. Or a puppy. And sometimes they see the profound sweetness in the wonky words. Photo by engrish.com Or maybe I'm a sentimental fool.
I'll have some Skal water to go with that apple pie, please. Photo by engrish.com I would so like to be transported to the cow-mooing meadow.
Have a fantastic weekend, y'all! Love, Becky
Oh, and enjoy this favorite video of mine. You might want to get a tissue in advance.
