My Little Punkin Head

I think Steve and I have adapted fairly well to both boys spreading their wings and launching to college campuses that are 600+ miles from home. I think we really have. I love that he and I have time together, and I am naturally one to crave peace and quiet. Goodness knows we have both of those now in plenty. All in all, life is fairly good presently for all four of us, and we are all enjoying where life's path currently has us placed. I will say, though, that it is hard on me to miss celebrating my April birthday boy's big day with him on the day. Oh, yes, I am that girl. I believe in a birthday day. I was raised with it. Growing up, it meant we had a chore free day that started with being sung to in bed, and it ended with a home-cooked family meal around the formica table that was one of our choosing. Good times, those childhood birthdays. 

As I grew up, I was for the evolution of the birthday day to a birthday week, which gave way to a birthday month. Oh, the birthday month is only in my head. Dear hubby won't play along with it. {I guess I am already far too big of a brat for his indulgence.} ;-) But, birthday month nonetheless do I have. And my Philip ascribes to the birthday month notion as well. It is nice to not be the only one in the family as such. :-) So now this April birthday boy of mine has turned twenty and twenty-one without me, celebrating his day in Nashvegas among his college friends.  Without me there to celebrate with him. He ought to be ashamed. ;-) It's just another measurable moment that gives proof to his emerging adulthood. 

This past April, that little adorable baby boy of mine turned the big twenty-one. Now, our sons enjoy our company, but when it got down to it, it just didn't seem like us visiting him on campus that weekend would be how he would want to celebrate his big day. Steve and I are not that hip. ;-) So, we sent Andrew from Denver to Nashville in our stead. Andrew doesn't have Friday class anyway, so he flew over on Thursday evening and was there on the big birthday day, on Friday, April 10, when Philip Edward turned twenty-one. 

He's a long way from that little punkin head now, isn't he? Somehow both of my tow-headed blonde little boys turned into redheads. Redheaded young men with big red beards. Yes, he is older, and yes, every day is a gift. It has been my absolute joy and pleasure to have a front row seat in the metamorphosis of little blonde Philip to big tall red-headed Philip. 

There are parts of him that have remained constant throughout his life, the chief component being his strong and undying affection for all things Star Wars. He was collecting the little figures before he could even properly pronounce them, and somewhere in storage right now are the remnants of his Star Wars Micro Machine collection, including the big Death Star. He has always been a reader. He has always been a gamer. He has always loved traditions. He has always loved for the four of us to be together. He has always laughed heartily at the antics of his brother. He has always loved animals. He has always been quick to smile, and quick to frown, ever expressive, letting us know quickly and easily where he stood on things. He has always loved fruit and sweet drinks, travel and adventure, trying new things, and having some stay at home downtime.

He is developing an affinity for photography. He secretly nurses the skill of writing. He yearns for a life of purpose. I cannot see past the curve in the earth, and neither can he, and so we wait expectantly to see how his life fully unfolds, and to see what fork in the road God will lead him to. It is such a gift for me to continue to see him grow, even though physically he won't get any taller. His growth now will predominantly be on the inside, as he continues to be molded by life choices and his burgeoning adulthood personal decisions.

If I could wish anything for him, it would be to live in his skin comfortably, to own completely all of his gifts, and to set about to use them with the greatest purpose imaginable. I feel like he can do this. I feel like he will do this. And I aim to sit and watch and enjoy the show for as long as possible. We had an absolutely wonderful time celebrating his birthday during our May family vacation. I know that our time together is less frequent than any of us would like, but I am forever grateful that we do all enjoy being together, and that we have such fun together. It may have been his birthday, but celebrating it together in May was my gift.

Look who's 21! My little punkin head, that's who. Happy Birthday, Philip. Thank you for being a gift in 1994, and every day of your life since then. 

Look Who Is 21 ~ Philip's Birthday ~ April 2015 ~ as seen in CREATE by Scrapbook Generation

This layout was featured in the September issue of Create by Scrapbook Generation which can be seen here on their website. 

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation 

Paper: Carta Bella, Jillibean Soup, We R Memory Keepers

Chipboard: Cosmo Cricket

Stickers: Simple Stories

Snickerdoodle Sunday

As I sit and sip coffee, I think back on the week, and in my mind I land on Thursday. It always seems like any day can be national something day. There's an ice cream day, a siblings day, and even the dog days of summer get their turn. National Dog Day was Thursday. My sister teased "Facebook is going to the dogs."  I told her she was so punny.  As we continue to settle in to life in suspended animation, aka life in our apartment, aka life in the clubhouse, we continue to find new things to do each day, new places to explore, new things to hunt for, new discoveries about what is in storage vs. the apartment, all while we grapple with the last few boxes {still} to unpack.

I am not a very patient person. I am not. But I would like to say that since we have now been in the apartment for 4 weeks, and we still have not completely unpacked everything, and I have not gone crazy, that perhaps I am more patient than I realize, or than I give myself credit for. I have *had* time to unpack, but I have chosen to do other things. I have chosen to spend as much time with my boys while they are home in their own brief differing windows of pre-Europe time, I have chosen to create things, to take a road trip to Springfield, Missouri, to get a massage and then brunch with my guys, to visit with a friend, to sit on my tiny patio sipping coffee....As I yearn for things to be completely "settled" in our new life, I have been able to balance that with the greater need for being in the moment and living in that moment, rather than feeding the inner beast that demands to be completely organized. 

I have been wanting to start our evening walks again. Two factors have been against me: the sultry still hot evenings, and the lack of a "new path" here. The weather cooled off a bit, and Truman and I both have been dying for a walk, so Saturday night we decided to just walk around the apartment complex. You should have seen how excited my boo was to finally be prancing around. He was fresh from his beauty appointment Saturday morning, so his step was lighter than usual, as if he knew just how darn cute he was with his new cut and sporty red bandanna. While the walking path was not picturesque or scenic, we made the most of it and just embraced where we were. Isn't that such a life lesson? I think that is how I have handled much of this transition, including the few remaining unpacked boxes. I have made the most of my time, and so be it if we still are a mess here and there in the corners. When given the choice to unpack, or walk this incredibly cute dog, wouldn't anyone choose the latter? ;-)

Truman has been such a joy to us in our days of transition. He has settled in to the apartment life like a champ, and has not once complained about the loss of his big green backyard, full of wild bunnies to chase. He is unsure of all the noises above us, but he will take most of them with a tilt of his head, or a whimper, reserving only the really loud noises for his bark of warning. He is so worried about his momma that he thinks someone upstairs is out to get me. ;-) 

Andrew has been gone two weeks now, and Philip leaves in one week, and this little Truman guy is the one that we get to keep with us. He is turning into quite the rotten little boy. If I had any doubts about that, my husband was sure to let me know just what he thought of my holding this baby in my lap while I did my hair and makeup the other day. Boo was a little scared and my lap is big enough anyway. ;-) Truman has been right there with us during all of his summer moving swirl. 

I had to really chuckle at him on the afternoon we drove back from Tyler. We had run some furniture we were getting rid of over to my sister, and we spent the time there out on the back patio, watching her four youngest children swim. We had taken Truman with us, as it was a day that included an Open House for our home while it was on the market still. We decided he would enjoy the field trip better than being penned up in the laundry room while we were gone and strangers roamed the house. 

And we were right. He just ran circles around that pool, checking out every little change in the kids' activities, and also dealing with my sister's horse puppy, her Grand Pyrenees Scout. We had not been in the car driving long before little boo just settled down to nap, much like little boys that had traveled a decade and a half ago in that same back seat. Yes, Truman is spoiled rotten. But he is my best boo after all, my only boo. Thursday might have been National Dog Day. But in my house, every day is dog day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

You Are Spoiled Rotten ~ Truman's First Swim Party ~ June 2015

Departure Time? Someday!

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine

A month from today my baby boy will board a plane to Paris, France, tour it for a week, and then, after a short stop in Dublin, Ireland, head on to his campus of choice for his semester abroad study, a Christian campus in Lithuania. Every time I say Lithuania, I chuckle, because my dear sweet mother cannot say Lithuania. ;-) She puts a few too many L's in there. 

Andrew decided back in February that he would study abroad for this coming fall semester. We were absolutely fine with that decision. In fact, both Steve and I really desired that our sons would avail themselves of an opportunity that was never afforded either one of us. When we college shopped with our sons, an abroad program was on the Need to Know if You Do This list. Andrew had a fantastic first year of college and we have marveled at the strengthening of his confidence and interests, of "watching" from 877 miles his maturing into a young man. He had a game plan from the beginning when he proposed to us that he study abroad, and he has stayed at school this summer to work on campus and live free while doing it. 

Now, same song, second verse! About three weeks ago, our oldest son let us know that he was tired of putting it off, and he had checked into it, and he wanted to also study abroad. He finally said, "To heck with it!" and we agreed. #yolo Now, Philip had originally registered for Vienna for spring 2015, but he changed his mind and cancelled that registration in October 2014. I was inwardly very sad that he did that, but the sphere of influence gets smaller as the child gets older. Every time we broached the subject with him, he assured us it was out of the realm of possibility because of academic offerings and staying on track, etc., etc., etc. So, imagine our delight when he told us he was ready to do what he needed to do to make it happen! We asked, "When?" and gulped quickly when he replied "This fall!" Me, "As in August? As in 2 months from now?" and he happily replied, "YES!"

Okay. Okay. Two sons in Europe. Okay, okay. I can do that. No hyperventilating necessary. Breathe deep. May as well! If one will be gone for Thanksgiving, why not two? Knock it all out at the same time, right? Philip applied to and was accepted at their Florence campus, so now, yes, we will have both boys studying abroad, one in Lithuania and one in Florence. Yikes! Once we got over the initial shock of his late in the day proposal, we were both so very thrilled that our sons will have this opportunity! Simultaneously, no less!

And it made me ponder all of the things they will have the chance to do, and see. And it made me recall that, if you discount my 3 Caribbean cruises, where let's face it, so many ports look alike, I only have left North America once, back in 1986, which is nearly 30 years ago! Double yikes! When the boys were younger, we were all about showing them various scenic sights in the United States. And we would never dream of leaving them...and didn't want to take a "big trip" until they were old enough to embrace it and remember it....

So many domestic trips later, I have wonderful vacation memories, but a very empty passport! And now we are knee deep in two sets of tuition payments, so I am not sure exactly when I will get to Europe! But, I am going someday! {And I say Europe because I do not desire to go to Asia or Africa or South America. And I've already been to Australia. That was my 1986 trip.} When I was thinking about all of this, I thought to myself, "Where would I go? Where do I want to go? Write it down! Time is running out!" 

The list is long! Ireland is probably near the top of my list. And then Italy! Oh, Tuscany, Rome, Florence! Yes, please! Venice? Maybe. If you twist my arm. ;-) And London, yes! And Scotland, yes! And Paris? Oui, oui!! If for no other reason than to eat a croissant! And yes, I would like to see Greece I believe. Austria? Yes. I heard the hills are alive there! And Denmark for the tulips, and Belgium for the chocolate! 

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

I'm ready to have my great affair and move! I think that is a pretty good list. Fairly robust! I don't know as I will get to all of them. But, I decided I needed to document this desire to help make my dreams come true. I put down 4. I intend to eventually come back and do a companion page for this layout, adding 4 more destinations to my list. I'll add Ireland and Tuscany and Austria and Greece, I guess. And maybe before too much longer, I'll be planning a real itinerary and then someday maybe, just maybe, I'll actually scrap some photos of these places that I took, because I got there.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” –Mark Twain

I don't want to have any regrets. I'm ready to explore, dream, discover! Have suitcase, will travel. Departure time? Someday!

My Europe Wishlist ~ Documenting My Bucket List ~ 2015

Layout featured in the July issue of  CREATE  by Scrapbook Generation

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation 

Paper: We R Memory Keepers

Title Font: Pacifico

Summer's in Full Swing & There's a Hot New CREATE Issue!

I look at the calendar and marvel over one half of the year being in the memory books already! I don't know about you, but I have thoroughly enjoyed my summer! We had an unseasonably and pleasantly mild June, and so when summer rolled into town at the end of June I was oh so ready! One of my favorite things is getting into a car warmed up by the sun. It's right behind wearing flip flops and smelling suntan lotion.

Of course, June held for the CREATE team another chance to work on our fun assignments. Getting the email every other month with our "To Do" list is sort of like opening a birthday present! You don't know what's in it, but you know it's something just for you, and it's gonna' be good! I love, love, loved my assignments this issue! I'm always down for anything to do with music and my beloved July 4 holiday. Additionally, I opted to submit for the featured manufacturer, We R Memory Keepers, and documented some of my traveling bucket list items.

Here are some sneaks of the projects. Be sure to check out all 277 pages of {free and amazing!} goodness at the magazine tab on Scrapbook Generation's website. I'll be back later to share the stories that I crafted with Pebbles, Authentique and WRMK paper pretties. I just get giddy when it's CREATE time!

Peanut Butter Eggs and Polka Dotted Swiss

Easter is kind of a crazy holiday. It moves all over the calendar, acting as capriciously as the very eggs themselves that you try to dye. I will never forget the very first year we lived in North Texas. My deep south Texas mom planning mode found the perfect short-sleeved pastel shirts for the boys that matched my sleeveless dress. A cold front blew in, and I have photos of us standing near budding trees, wind blowing our hair, freezing.

As a child, Easter to me meant matching dresses for me and my sisters that mother would whip out on her sewing machine, and specifically I recall the tortures of laced necklines and stiff polka dotted swiss that both itched like the blazes during church. I always loved picking out my new white patent leather shoes, and I remember being delighted the year that I graduated from knee socks to white tights. I also remember treading oh, so carefully on those virginal white shoes, not wanting any scuff marks to mar their sparkling new status. I also loved a little white beaded handbag one year. I believe it was the same year I got those white tights. Oh, I had it going back in the day.

As I aged and entered adulthood, Easter became a jumbled chaos of pinks and blues and baskets of candy, and Steve and I, childless at the time, were the designated egg hunt hiders, choosing to head outside with baskets overbrimming with eggs to be hidden, rather than stay inside and try to manage a herd of children eager to hunt for the chocolate that would be over their eating allotment, partially melted, and offer a perennial mess, including but not limited to the little discarded pastel foil wrapper balls that would be found in nooks and crannies for weeks to come. Children too eager to eat more candy on the sly could never be bothered to head to the trashcan with those. 

When Steve and I moved an hour north of my family in Houston, we became a tour spot on the Easter rounds, our home now perfect for hosting the family Easter gathering. Our heavily treed backyard and lush grass, along with our large deck, was an excellent spot for activities relating to Peter Cottontail, et. al. However, the Easter twenty-one years ago was slightly different. Instead of hiding the eggs, I was the egg. I was 38 weeks pregnant at the time, and decked out for the sunny spring afternoon in a jersey knit top that was full of tiny flowers. I remember going to the OB the morning after Easter, and him fussing at me over my weight gain. I assured him it was the salt from the Easter ham and the fluid would come off.

Well, indeed it did. That Easter Sunday in 1994 was April 3. The following Saturday, 11 days early, I went into labor and my own little bundle of joy appeared just after midnight on Saturday, giving our first child a birthdate of Sunday, April 10.  If I could have been a little faster, he would have had the coolest birthday - 4-9-94. Alas, I didn't make the midnight mark and settled for the 11 day early feat.

Easters took on another new meaning at this juncture. Little boys in dandy matching outfits with cute coordinating socks and shoes, Easter hunt outfits for playing in, and parents wanting a nap at about the moment the sugar high kicked in for the kiddos. We moved around the state, and took our little boys with us, keeping to the simple Easter traditions we had that of course always included starting the day at church.

While growing up in my house had included the age old tradition of dying Easter eggs every year the Saturday before Easter, as the photo above documents, Steve and I never implemented that tradition with our sons. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that Steve worked every year on the Saturday before Easter or not. It never was appealing to me. No one would eat those eggs, and they just easily cracked and were quite the mess. Warm gulf Easters could even have the dye coming off on your hand if the hunt ran long. We were none the worse for wear by skipping it. Paas had nothing to offer me and each year I skipped over that egg dying kit on the Target aisle, no regrets.

One year, 2010 to be exact, the boys got a wild March hair and wanted to pick up one of those Paas kits. Now, mind you, they are 14 and 15 years old at this point, and since I imagined the mess could be managed easily enough, I acquiesced. We bought the kit and the Saturday before another April Easter, we dyed Easter eggs. Our one and only time. I think the boys kind of felt like Steve and I about it - once you've done it, it's enough. They were really cute in the moment - quite proud of their feats. I still smile when I see these photos and remember these tall lanky boys, headed into manhood, wanting to dye eggs and really enjoying it.

Easter has changed once again. We celebrated our first Easter on Sunday where there were no Orange Danish for breakfast, no new clothes in the house, no baskets to prep, no candies to shove into eggs. It was a little melancholy to say the least, Reese's Peanut Butter eggs offering me no comfort. I was open to embracing the change as an opportunity to soak in the true import of the day, and we had an amazing worship service at church no doubt. We changed the restaurant where we ate, and invited two dear friends to go with us. We had a wonderful day, truly. But in my heart I was thinking about all the Easters past, full of baskets and boys and bunnies, and  wishing for just a simple case of Easter Egg-citement.

A Simple Case of Easter Egg-citement ~ Easter Weekend ~ April 2010

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park, Lawn Fawn, October Afternoon, W R Memory Keepers

Title Font: Eggcream Title Stickers: October Afternoon

Your Dreams Stay Big, Your Worries Stay Small

That's my boy there in the green jacket, with the messenger bag and the columbian blue baseball cap worn backwards. That's my boy, away at college, living a life some might say he was born to live. He has always been fairly independent, circling back to the parental units much like a homing pigeon, touching base as needing, remembering where he's from, but not necessarily wanting or needing to hang out there. Big on friendships and social scenes, small on hanging out with us. 

Now, he does love a good family vacation. And he does love us. But just sitting here, chilling with us, not so much. When he hit middle school, he really went into his room for the evenings for the most part, or to the media room. He's my gamer. Not one for TV shows or hanging out downstairs. I took him at face value, never trying to mold him differently, but missing him each night as he headed upstairs. Or, as he aged, headed out to work, or out with friends. 

I think one of the benefits of college is that when they do come home, they do come home. To rest, to recharge, to remember. I think both of my boys really hunkered down at home during Christmas break. Besides family gatherings and church, they didn't really go hang out with friends or do anything. I was surprised, but secretly I loved it. I am glad for the times when we are all back together under one roof.

I was never surprised that Philip planned to go to college. There was never any question. We live in a school district where 94% of graduates go on to some college level work. They are prepped for that. In the fifth grade, you set a trajectory for middle school and at that point, they begin pointing you to college work preparation. I remember quite a few hard discussions with middle school teachers, whom I thought were asking too much of a twelve-year-old. They calmly and firmly let me know that their job was to prepare them for the rigors of high school. And, on the few times that I did talk to one of the boys' high school teachers, they calmly and firmly let me know their job was to prepare them for the rigors of college. And I can say both boys thus far have adapted very well to college. Thank you Tax Dollars, and thank you to their teachers.

When Philip hit the youth group at church, he formed a friendship with Jordan, or J-Money as he was called back in the day. Gosh, that was eight years ago, back in 2007. See, I was the horrible mom that held both of my boys back from starting school one year. So, they were slightly more mature, and both boys connected well with older kids. Philip let me know on numerous occasions, as did Andrew, that I had done them wrong and they were graduating one year late. {If I had it to do over again, I would do the very same thing. Thank you Collins.} At any rate, Philip felt in his heart that he was in the same class as Jordan. So, when Jordan developed senior-itis, Philip did, too. The only problem? Philip was a junior. 

So, by the time Philip's senior year rolled around, we had looked at five colleges before the August school bell rang, kicking off the official countdown. One in Georgia, two in Tennessee, two in Arkansas. That left his senior year to just do some preview weekend experiences and hone down his choices. He did two previews and by November, he had made his selection, falling in love with Nashville as much as, or perhaps even more than, falling in love with the university he picked there.

His plan mapped out, he settled into riding out the last few months as a high school student living under his parents' wings. He made no bones about being ready to leave. I do think there were a few moments toward the end where he got a little sentimental, but the growing urgency of picking out what to take and what to leave at home, and making the list of things to pick up before leaving town quickly overcrowded the little seed of sentimentality. 

Of course, during all of this, mom is finishing his School of Life album, and planning a graduation party, and basically trying to just hold it all together. Goodness. I don't think I've ever cried so much as the day I finished his senior slide show and did the preview of it with the music going. I had picked six songs, with Philip's input, and they were the backdrop to his slideshow, in this order:

• This Is Home - Switchfoot
• Dare You To Move - Switchfoot
• Find Your Wings - Mark Harris
• My Wish - Rascal Flatts
• Home - Philip Phillips
• On My Way - Phil Collins, from Brother Bear

And that ending song finished off the slideshow with my boy looking down the railroad tracks, ready to go.

Tell everybody I'm on my way
New friends and new places to see
With blue skies ahead, yes I'm on my way
And there's no where else that I'd rather be 

Tell everybody I'm on my way
And I'm loving every step I take
With the sun beatin' down, yes I'm on my way
And I can't keep this smile off my face

'Cause there's nothing like seein' each other again
No matter what the distance between
And the stories that we tell will make you smile
Oh it really lifts my heart

So tell 'em all I'm on my way
New friends and new places to see
And to sleep under the stars and could ask for more
With the moon keeping watch over me 

Not the snow not the rain can change my mind
The sun will come out wait and see
And the feeling of the wind in your face can lift your heart
Oh, there's no where I would rather be

'Cause I'm on my way now
Well and truly
I'm on my way now

I'm on my way now 

Tell everybody I'm on my way
And I just can't wait to be there
With blue skies ahead yes I'm on my way
And nothing but good times to share

So, tell everybody I'm on my way
And I just can't wait to be home
With the sun beating down yes I'm on my way
And nothing but good times to show

I'm on my way
Yes, I'm on my way 

I can see that railroad track picture in my mind, and that was June. Fast forward two months, and the college drop-off happened at the speed of light. Oh, Steve and I weren't ready. And I don't think Andrew really was either. But, no mistake, Philip got there, we got him settled, and it was clear as day he was ready for us to go, and for his new life to begin. We rolled onto campus that morning about 9, and rolled off around 4:30. See, we had to get on our way, so that he could get on his way. 

I love seeing this boy in this photo, full of confidence, ready to take on his new life, discover himself, figure out what he's to do with life. My prayer was then, and continues to be, that he enjoys the journey, and isn't reaching only for a future destination, and that he is truly loving every step he takes, with his new friends and new places to see.

Son, I will tell everybody you're on your way. Breathe in the blue sky. Savor the good times. New friends and new places to see. The moon is keeping watch over you. My wish? That your dreams stay big and your worries stay small. Dream big. Adventure is out there.

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park

Title Fonts: Gurmukhi, Halohandletter 

Wise Men Still Seek Him

For whatever reason, I am into music. And I am into Christmas. And yes, I am into Christmas music. I remember playing the few Christmas LP's we had growing up, placing the special vinyl discs onto the turntable after carefully moving the decorative crystal pieces off the TV console, placing them carefully on the ground, to open the turntable lid. Perry Como "Home for the Holidays" is the Christmas album I recall the most. I guess my mama was trying to program us early to come back home for Christmas. She succeeded for the most part. 

Over time, of course, we have seen the vinyl give way to the unmanageable 8-track tape, which thankfully moved on to the cassette tape, and then has rested for over thirty years on the CD-rom. While my oldest son believes the truest sound quality comes from the CD-rom {it's all about that bass}, you can even buy the MP3 now. I don't know what will be next, since we are already buying invisible music on that MP3. I will tell you, though, there's something about slipping that vinyl from the sleeve with solemn revere, and trying to get that needle to set down just right and proper upon it to begin that sweet flow of melody.

While I have seen the music morph, I have collected it all the while. My college years saw me making cassette tape mixes of holiday music, needing some to call my own since I was 10 hours away from Perry Como. And while I was going to be going home from college for the holidays, I wanted that Christmas music in early December, too. I would imagine that my first year of working after college - you know that first year with a paycheck! - that I purchased some cassette tapes. I recall vividly ordering a 3-pack of Christmas cassettes that Time Life offered on TV. They are nestled down in my music drawer still. Thankfully, though, most of my Christmas music is in CD form. By the time I started working in 1986, and we married in 1987, the CD was well established after its 1982 debut.

I have a Christmas Eve tradition. I get the house all picked up on Christmas Eve Eve, and on the morning of Christmas Eve, while the boys are sleeping, and Steve has crept off to work in the early early pre-dawn hours, I brew my coffee, and sit on my couch with my favored Christmas mug of snickernut coffee, and play my Christmas music, and just sit and enjoy my tree, as it lights up the room long before the sun appears. It is one of my favorite times - to be still and calm and peaceful. To reflect on the gifts in my heart, to ponder, to treasure, to remember the year past, to contemplate the coming year, to just soak in the season as it reaches its culminating peak.

I have wondered for awhile if I could narrow it down to having just one favorite Christmas song. It would be hard. I have memories of singing these songs over my life span with friends, with siblings, with my children, with choirs at various churches, with Steve. My sister Pattie stands out in particular when I hear "Mele Kelikimaka", as she really enjoyed singing that growing up. Karen Carpenter anything reminds me of so many Black Friday escapades with my mom and my two sisters. "Sleigh Ride" finds me playing french horn in the annual high school Christmas concert. I think of Christmas Eve service, and all the luminaries in the sanctuary, when "Silent Night" rolls into the mix. I recall the boys' Christmas programs and cupcake fingers when "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" prances into the speakers. 

51 Albums, 533 Songs, 30 hours, 56 minutes. My Holiday genre in iTunes as it stands today. Love it. I don't think there is a year, though, where I am not buying another album, so it is an organic compendium with a life its own. I start playing it usually the day after Thanksgiving and go until the New Year. I love the variety of the songs and how they span memories of fifty years of my life. One tender moment last August when my oldest child left the nest, "Mom, I need some of your Christmas music, " as he, too, anticipated the wanting of the Christmas carols in his dorm, preceding his own trek home for the holidays.

But, I do have a favorite song. It's "O Holy Night". Luciano Pavarotti, The Carpenters, Sara Groves, Donny Osmond, Nat King Cole, Faith Hill, Selah, Tony Bennett, Josh Groban, Celene Dion, Jackie Evancho all shuffle through my play list and no matter what I am doing, or which one of these artists is singing it, this song always stops me in my tracks and resonates deeply within me. It's a hard song to perform, and so often doesn't make the Christmas Eve service cut which is geared toward congregational participation, but it is the one that encapsulates most clearly to me the Reason for the season.

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,
Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friends.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!

I love the related and consequential Christmas sentiment, "Wise men still seek Him." It was one such thought that had us driving south on a dark cold December night to Waxahachie. It's about 65 miles from us. I had heard about a live nativity that a church put on, but it was more than a live nativity - it was a recreation on a small scale of the town of Bethlehem. We are limited on when we can do things in December, and as luck would have it, the night that we could actually go to Waxahachie was one of those rare, windy, bitter cold nights in North Texas. We bundled up as best we could and set out to find the Star over the manger, the little town of Bethlehem.

The photos themselves are not spectacular. I struggle in low light situations still. {Maybe when I grow up I can be a good low light photographer. ;-) } But the night was so special, and we have never repeated this event, so they are all I have. One night, 4 seekers, 3 wise men, 1 manger, 1 star, 1 baby. It was a delight to walk through the stations of the birth, from the religious leaders denunciating the event, to the wise men on real camels with gifts, to the shepherds watching their flocks of real sheep, to the dark hovel with the one bright star, announcing the virgin birth, the Christ child.

It didn't last long. The event was an at-your-leisure tour, so as we ambled our way along the paths, we took it all in and finished up, and headed to search out the nearest Starbucks and a warm drink. I couldn't tell you if the boys really recall this night. I am not sure Steve would ever be willing to drive again to it. But, I remember it still. I wonder what it was really like 2,000+ years ago. I wonder if the Star were to appear today if anyone would really notice it. I think about Mary raising a son she knew was not really hers. I ponder all this in my heart.

And when I sit and stare at my tree and listen to my music, I know in my heart that wise men still seek Him, and the bright Star of shining hope is our beacon in the dark night of our heart, the Light that gives us hope, that makes this truly the most wonderful time of the year.

Oh Little Town of Bethlehem ~ Waxahachie Nativity ~ December 2009

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Authentique

Title: Silhouette cut file

A Decade of Pumpkin Devotion

When my beloved PSL made its fall debut in 2003, I actually lived in one of the last cities in America that did not have a Starbucks. Unreal, I know. We lived in McAllen, down south, at the "bottom of Texas" as Andrew would say, and the "RioPlex" of border towns were not yet on the radar of Starbucks. Mind you, the Foley's was the number two store at that time in volume, so there was plenty of money in the Mexico national tourist mecca. 

And admittedly, I guess we were on their radar at that time, because one year later on October 1, 2004, the first Starbucks in the valley would open, about 4 minutes from my house. I know the date because I was there and I have a photo of myself with a giant inflatable cup of coffee to prove it. ;-)

But, back to the PSL. I guess I would have to credit my oldest sister, Ronda, for the introduction to one of my besties. Ronda was working at the time and hitting up Starbucks daily for her cup of joe, and I know her enough to know she would have been one of the first people in Houston to try a pumpkin flavored drink when the barista offered it to her. So, as I recreate it in my mind, I am imagining that I had my first PSL at Thanksgiving 2003, and it was probably on Black Friday when we went out on our annual shopping pilgrimage.

I have a November birthday. I love having a November birthday. I love fall, even here in Texas where we don't really do fall. I guess we have a little fall in November, and I guess that is why I love fall and November. I know in many parts of the country, it is already snowing in November and moving into winter...but Texas takes its time and slowly ushers in the changing of the seasonal guards, or gourds if you will, for fall. ;-)

Thanksgiving has also long been my favorite holiday. All of the joy and richness of Christmas, without any of the procurement stress for all the people on your list. It's a time of being together, being thankful, getting ready for the big burst to Christmas, but reveling in the slow pace of the waning autumn days. I love that Starbucks launched a drink just for fall. Just for me.

In 2004, I was able to get my regular fill of my beloved PSL at my new valley Starbucks. Yeehaw. Yes, I know it doesn't have pumpkin. Yes, I know it is high in calories. But, I will hand it to Starbucks for being innovative and inventive and creating a drink that is deliciousness served warm. We moved to Dallas in July 2005 and so by the third year of the launch, I was in an area where I had a pick of any number of Starbucks. In fact, my own little town has one on the corner of the bustling main intersection. Hello Dallas metroplex. Enter Starbucks heaven.

I can't count how many times I would pick up a PSL for me, and for one of the boys' teachers. I loved to bring them a cup of good cheer. It's the perfect drink to surprise someone with - not too strong, not too sweet - and I was happy to share my love of all things pumpkin with anyone who was brave enough to sign on for teaching a room full of rowdy kids. It is the official drink of Thanksgiving, right? And to whom could I be more grateful than teachers?

And now look at my baby - all grown up and ten years old. It's hard to believe I've had a decade of them. It's hard to remember life before a savory warm PSL. I'm grateful she survived the recession. I'm grateful that some things stay around for awhile. I'm grateful that new traditions can happen. I'm grateful for sisters and shared shopping excursions. I'm grateful for all things pumpkin. Served warm in a cup with whipped cream? Yes, please!

PSL ~ A Decade of Pumpkin Spice Lattes ~ September 2013

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Letter Stickers: American Crafts