I drove by a house today with an almost gone roof on its porch. Yet, Christmas lights were hung on the door and windows. At night, they beautify the home. This evening, I drove my daughter out to Tara, a country inn, and basked in all the outdoor lights while her choral group performed.
Christmas lights in and out brighten up a home, no matter what it looks like otherwise. Sure we enjoy the tastefully decorated homes that look like post cards. I, though, am amazed at the transformation from dull to that warm glow even little LED's add to a scene.
A star in my window shines warmly to the neighborhood as well as bathing my living room. Steven, the Siamese cat, looks magical in the red glow of my poinsettia lights on my banister as he eyes me going down the stairs. A little light changes the mood of the room.
I love to lay under the Christmas tree lit up with all the other lights out. Growing up we had the fireplace as well to add to luminescence of the living room. In Christmas lights, it seems anything could happen. Expectancy and magic fills me.
That is the power of Christmas. The belief that miracles can happen. The lights symbolize that. With God all things are possible, like His birth in a manger. The Light of the World wrapped in human form.
It is no mistake Hanukkah is also this time of the year. A miracle holiday, the Festival of Lights, points to the Messiah. Let your lights shine as they transform your home to the glory showing the Light of the holidays.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Advent Wreath and Clothes
In middle childhood, seemed my church brought back some old traditions, like Christmas Eve service and the lighting of the Advent Wreath. Families took turns with the carrying out of this part of worship.
One Sunday, a family didn't show up or the church forgot to slide a family in that slot. We were unprepared, but with my father being an elder and responsible, stepped up to the plate. His partner, my mother, was home in bed as she didn't feel well. I eagerly agreed to be on the team with my dad.
The problem this year as a seventh grader, the skirt I had on to be in front of the whole congregation, was a short gray felt with flowers sewn on. I wore a white satin blouse as the style of the year- very in. It wasn't my best outfit or even a Christmas outfit. I'm sure we did a great job pinch hitting on short notice. My dad read the devotional and I lit the candle.
The problem came when we got home and told Mom about our church experience. She ran back to bed with the monster headache because her daughter wore that outfit on the dais. Dad and I felt bad, but knew we couldn't have said no for the worship service.
So, next time we criticize clothes in church, remember, maybe the mother is sick or isn't, now, even in the picture. The styles have changed as has the family. But let's accept the children's offering of worship.
One Sunday, a family didn't show up or the church forgot to slide a family in that slot. We were unprepared, but with my father being an elder and responsible, stepped up to the plate. His partner, my mother, was home in bed as she didn't feel well. I eagerly agreed to be on the team with my dad.
The problem this year as a seventh grader, the skirt I had on to be in front of the whole congregation, was a short gray felt with flowers sewn on. I wore a white satin blouse as the style of the year- very in. It wasn't my best outfit or even a Christmas outfit. I'm sure we did a great job pinch hitting on short notice. My dad read the devotional and I lit the candle.
The problem came when we got home and told Mom about our church experience. She ran back to bed with the monster headache because her daughter wore that outfit on the dais. Dad and I felt bad, but knew we couldn't have said no for the worship service.
So, next time we criticize clothes in church, remember, maybe the mother is sick or isn't, now, even in the picture. The styles have changed as has the family. But let's accept the children's offering of worship.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Almost
A heavy snow blanketed the town of West Middlesex the Saturday before Christmas in 1972. Mom had to get up for the Deacon's breakfast they held(and I'm sure they still do) every year to pack baskets for the shut-ins. Not being a morning person, she, more than usual, had to fight to get out of bed. A headache and weakness needed to be conquered that morning.
Dad had his typical headache since his whiplash and thought nothing of it. He shoveled the walk so Mom could walk over to the church. Mom left just as he was finishing. He opened the door, smelling the natural gas stench or odor. Immediately, he ran up the stairs to wake me up.
"Mollie, hurry get up, something is wrong with the furnace. Get dressed, we have to get out of the house," he quickly told me.
I threw on some clothes, ran a brush through my long blond hair and exited the house with my dad, who just got off the phone with the gas company. The sun bright on the snow, but nerves kept me from enjoying the beautiful day.
We ate at the Isaly's counter. I can't even remember what we ate, I was so shook up. I had never ate there before like that or since. I'm sure I listened as he told Margaret about the fiasco. I sat still.
Dad must have called the gas company back, because we started up the hill back home.
We ambled on the other side of the Main Street, quiet. I threw up in front of Sam Clarke's old home, all that Isaly's breakfast on the fresh snow, my hair hanging down. Seeing my turquoise knit pants and black boots had missed the chunks.
An owl had fallen into the flue, and blocked the vent. It became petrified, but the furnace hadn't been needed until this cold night. Mom came home to all this drama, understanding why she felt better after fresh air and breakfast. The talk was if we had had a smaller house, we probably all would have died. So glad for that deacon's breakfast that morning, and our big house.
Dad had his typical headache since his whiplash and thought nothing of it. He shoveled the walk so Mom could walk over to the church. Mom left just as he was finishing. He opened the door, smelling the natural gas stench or odor. Immediately, he ran up the stairs to wake me up.
"Mollie, hurry get up, something is wrong with the furnace. Get dressed, we have to get out of the house," he quickly told me.
I threw on some clothes, ran a brush through my long blond hair and exited the house with my dad, who just got off the phone with the gas company. The sun bright on the snow, but nerves kept me from enjoying the beautiful day.
We ate at the Isaly's counter. I can't even remember what we ate, I was so shook up. I had never ate there before like that or since. I'm sure I listened as he told Margaret about the fiasco. I sat still.
Dad must have called the gas company back, because we started up the hill back home.
We ambled on the other side of the Main Street, quiet. I threw up in front of Sam Clarke's old home, all that Isaly's breakfast on the fresh snow, my hair hanging down. Seeing my turquoise knit pants and black boots had missed the chunks.
An owl had fallen into the flue, and blocked the vent. It became petrified, but the furnace hadn't been needed until this cold night. Mom came home to all this drama, understanding why she felt better after fresh air and breakfast. The talk was if we had had a smaller house, we probably all would have died. So glad for that deacon's breakfast that morning, and our big house.
Christmas TV
One year after the all afternoon Sunday School program, we came home to watch a delightful new special A Charlie Brown Christmas, on our black and white television. So many of what we call classics now, sparkled with newness when I was a child. Some had copyright laws and we didn't see them as children, like It's a Wonderful Life.
Beginning in December the parade started of all the cartoon specials, the celebrity specials and any other Christmas TV you could imagine. And they had to be watched then or you missed it till the next year.
What was also special was all the TV series had their own Christmas show. They dealt with a Christmas miracle or change every time. A church service with a Christmas message threw a dart into a character's heart. They may never have gone to church any other day of the year, but most TV families showed up on Christmas, with the children in the program, only done on Christmas Eve.
Now, The Twilight Zone broke that mode of church service, and had drunken Santas or something bizarre, but they all ended with good will toward men and the like.
I think during the 50's and 60's, the United States TV land lulled us into thinking we were all Christians and safe with our faith. Because at least on Christmas, everyone proclaimed the birth of Jesus and how that holiday changed the world.
Beginning in December the parade started of all the cartoon specials, the celebrity specials and any other Christmas TV you could imagine. And they had to be watched then or you missed it till the next year.
What was also special was all the TV series had their own Christmas show. They dealt with a Christmas miracle or change every time. A church service with a Christmas message threw a dart into a character's heart. They may never have gone to church any other day of the year, but most TV families showed up on Christmas, with the children in the program, only done on Christmas Eve.
Now, The Twilight Zone broke that mode of church service, and had drunken Santas or something bizarre, but they all ended with good will toward men and the like.
I think during the 50's and 60's, the United States TV land lulled us into thinking we were all Christians and safe with our faith. Because at least on Christmas, everyone proclaimed the birth of Jesus and how that holiday changed the world.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Sunday School Programs
Oh, my! When I was a little girl, our Sunday School Christmas programs rocked. They were an all day affair, it seemed. A-L had to bring sandwiches, which my mother made Isaly's ham salad and cheese spread from Margaret's recipe. M-Z brought cookies. The bulletin announced it for weeks.
The kids did their program of songs and the manger scene. We would have a magician. The kids ran around the whole Fellowship Hall and educational wing. Did want those cookies, but not the sandwiches so much. We played silly games while waiting between segments of the program.
We got blue boxes with Christmas pictures of Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus, filled with hard candy and sometimes some cream filled chocolate candies. The boxes were so pretty, and the candy, too, but not my favorite. I don't believe they tasted too great for me. Dad usually finished them off.
When the sandwiches were almost gone, Santa arrived to hear the kids' requests
for presents. As we got just a little bit older, we knew it was some man dressed as Santa, but could never figure out who. One year after Santa had listened to everyone and I mean everyone, he went to the bathroom. We stood for hours(well, maybe not hours)by the door, peering under the crack and trying to figure out if it really was Santa. Where was his sleigh, anyways? On the roof? Whoever was Santa that year waited us out, until we were whisked away by the preacher and our parents.
We always thought Rev. Hatch could be Santa because he was very jolly. But I guess he would be missed the most and the most obvious.
These programs promoted a family feeling. Any adult was free to scold a kid, if he got out of hand. We ate at the long tables. Many showed up at these events, probably two to three hundred. A mingling crowd of well wishers singing Christmas carols.
The kids did their program of songs and the manger scene. We would have a magician. The kids ran around the whole Fellowship Hall and educational wing. Did want those cookies, but not the sandwiches so much. We played silly games while waiting between segments of the program.
We got blue boxes with Christmas pictures of Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus, filled with hard candy and sometimes some cream filled chocolate candies. The boxes were so pretty, and the candy, too, but not my favorite. I don't believe they tasted too great for me. Dad usually finished them off.
When the sandwiches were almost gone, Santa arrived to hear the kids' requests
for presents. As we got just a little bit older, we knew it was some man dressed as Santa, but could never figure out who. One year after Santa had listened to everyone and I mean everyone, he went to the bathroom. We stood for hours(well, maybe not hours)by the door, peering under the crack and trying to figure out if it really was Santa. Where was his sleigh, anyways? On the roof? Whoever was Santa that year waited us out, until we were whisked away by the preacher and our parents.
We always thought Rev. Hatch could be Santa because he was very jolly. But I guess he would be missed the most and the most obvious.
These programs promoted a family feeling. Any adult was free to scold a kid, if he got out of hand. We ate at the long tables. Many showed up at these events, probably two to three hundred. A mingling crowd of well wishers singing Christmas carols.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Finals and Decorating
Katie is in the midst of finals this week. Changed a bit since I was in nursing school. She took one on line. I know it has really changed since my sisters were in college.
The finals were done and time to pick up Diane from the Youngstown Airport. Her flight from Sterling, Kansas came in there. Gerri Lee home from Grove City College. Actually, I'm getting the years mixed up, but a lot of excitement with sisters coming home.
We spent all day cleaning and then decorating, listening to that great Christmas music on the white and gray record player throughout the big house. I probably played and stayed out of the way more than anything.
Diane cut out snowflakes from red tissue paper, taping one on each glass window in the dark stained wood and glass door between our living room and middle room. I always tried to replicate that breezy, fluttery snowflake in various areas. Our third married Christmas in Connecticut at the Falls Mills apartments with the textile mill high ceilings, I insisted on the biggest tree we could get and put that on top of an Escort. Nostalgia has no judgment. The church we attended had the Christmas tree sale. We had the huge tree, but few ornaments, so I cut out fluffy large snowflakes and scattered them all over the tree. I thought it looked gorgeous.
I also used snowflakes the next year on the telemetry floor where I worked with red hearts hanging in between the snowflakes, of course. What else for a heart monitoring unit?
Even as a child, I was amazed at how a family could transform the home into Christmas magic in quick time. Diane made Christmas cookies, too. Cut out sugar cookies. I wonder what her girls think of that?
Now a days, this would definitely be too late to decorate around the third week of December, with most people all fancy before Thanksgiving and carols playing in the malls. But those days long ago, we celebrated more between Christmas and New Years, when the kids were out of school, college students home on break and some mills even closed during that time. Now, Christmas break goes faster than summer and some are ready to pack up the tree December 26, and the latest by January 1. I don't mind Christmas coming earlier, but let's keep it a little longer.
The finals were done and time to pick up Diane from the Youngstown Airport. Her flight from Sterling, Kansas came in there. Gerri Lee home from Grove City College. Actually, I'm getting the years mixed up, but a lot of excitement with sisters coming home.
We spent all day cleaning and then decorating, listening to that great Christmas music on the white and gray record player throughout the big house. I probably played and stayed out of the way more than anything.
Diane cut out snowflakes from red tissue paper, taping one on each glass window in the dark stained wood and glass door between our living room and middle room. I always tried to replicate that breezy, fluttery snowflake in various areas. Our third married Christmas in Connecticut at the Falls Mills apartments with the textile mill high ceilings, I insisted on the biggest tree we could get and put that on top of an Escort. Nostalgia has no judgment. The church we attended had the Christmas tree sale. We had the huge tree, but few ornaments, so I cut out fluffy large snowflakes and scattered them all over the tree. I thought it looked gorgeous.
I also used snowflakes the next year on the telemetry floor where I worked with red hearts hanging in between the snowflakes, of course. What else for a heart monitoring unit?
Even as a child, I was amazed at how a family could transform the home into Christmas magic in quick time. Diane made Christmas cookies, too. Cut out sugar cookies. I wonder what her girls think of that?
Now a days, this would definitely be too late to decorate around the third week of December, with most people all fancy before Thanksgiving and carols playing in the malls. But those days long ago, we celebrated more between Christmas and New Years, when the kids were out of school, college students home on break and some mills even closed during that time. Now, Christmas break goes faster than summer and some are ready to pack up the tree December 26, and the latest by January 1. I don't mind Christmas coming earlier, but let's keep it a little longer.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Audition, Audition!
Mary Ellen auditioned for the high school musical this morning. Mrs. Morris listens to the talent, then choses the musical. I'm sure costs are involved, the sets, the rights to the musical, in this decision. Our life has been revolving around the musical auditions for a long time.
I think back to auditioning for district choir, the practicing with Mr. DiSanti, the ride to Westminster College, the exposure to the music rooms there. It seemed that was in December.
I campaigned for Miss Hope of Lawrence County in November of my junior year of nursing school. I thought I did well, but was no comparison to Petey and her Pandora's box speech. She lit up the room with her expressions. David heard all the winner would have to do over the year and silently wished I wouldn't get it. A lot of parades, speaking on Cancer awareness and other activities to be this ambassador for the American Cancer Society. No, Petey was the best candidate.
Right as Christmas break started my freshman year of nursing school, I interviewed for student delegate for the Presbyterian General Assembly. I was weak from just getting out of the hospital, being dehydrated from a stomach virus. I think now, there is no way I would have been kept in the hospital for 2 to 3 days for just throwing up one night. I couldn't keep anything down and since I could walk to the ER across the drive way, the ever vigilant nursing student dorm mates insisted I go and escorted me twice.
The interviewers did not see any energy or maybe I was drifting from my safe harbor of Christianity at that time, as I mentioned in an earlier post. I'm not sure now even where the General Assembly was that next year in the summer, but I missed it.
In my senior year, I did get to be the senior director for the Miracle Worker. This proved to a be an awesome experience. I truly think our students at the time performed wonderfully, especially Dawna Rabold Crammer. During the elementary performance, she walked out to the water fountains, staying in character as Helen. The children gasped that she really was blind! Later we went to Edinboro's performance, as this was Mr. Munnel's ala mater. Maybe we were a little cocky, but again we all felt ours was better.
I just say to all the auditioners, "Break a leg!"
I think back to auditioning for district choir, the practicing with Mr. DiSanti, the ride to Westminster College, the exposure to the music rooms there. It seemed that was in December.
I campaigned for Miss Hope of Lawrence County in November of my junior year of nursing school. I thought I did well, but was no comparison to Petey and her Pandora's box speech. She lit up the room with her expressions. David heard all the winner would have to do over the year and silently wished I wouldn't get it. A lot of parades, speaking on Cancer awareness and other activities to be this ambassador for the American Cancer Society. No, Petey was the best candidate.
Right as Christmas break started my freshman year of nursing school, I interviewed for student delegate for the Presbyterian General Assembly. I was weak from just getting out of the hospital, being dehydrated from a stomach virus. I think now, there is no way I would have been kept in the hospital for 2 to 3 days for just throwing up one night. I couldn't keep anything down and since I could walk to the ER across the drive way, the ever vigilant nursing student dorm mates insisted I go and escorted me twice.
The interviewers did not see any energy or maybe I was drifting from my safe harbor of Christianity at that time, as I mentioned in an earlier post. I'm not sure now even where the General Assembly was that next year in the summer, but I missed it.
In my senior year, I did get to be the senior director for the Miracle Worker. This proved to a be an awesome experience. I truly think our students at the time performed wonderfully, especially Dawna Rabold Crammer. During the elementary performance, she walked out to the water fountains, staying in character as Helen. The children gasped that she really was blind! Later we went to Edinboro's performance, as this was Mr. Munnel's ala mater. Maybe we were a little cocky, but again we all felt ours was better.
I just say to all the auditioners, "Break a leg!"
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