Love

When I was little, Mom always set out a beautifully painted little wooden box as part of our Christmas decor.  The box was empty, and it went with some story I can never really remember about a child giving his teacher a box filled with love.

What I do remember well is that one year my nephew Ryan was examining the box and asked Grandma why it was empty.  "It's not empty," Mom told him, "It's full of love! Every time we open it, love sneaks out and fills the room." She went on to tell him the little story I don't remember.  He listened to her without comment and then darted away to play when the story was over.  But a few days later, when his family was ready to leave after their visit, Ryan was seen eyeing the little box again.  He carefully opened the lid and watched the invisible love float up.  After a moment, he reach up, grabbed a handful, shoved it quickly into his pocket, and then closed the box and ran to catch up with his parents.

Our family loves remembering that sweet little moment, and I always want to be like Ryan - conscious of the love that is so abundant in life, and careful to somehow preserve it.

There have been so many wonderful, loving moments so far this season.  Like when neighbors quietly came and transformed Mom and Dad's front yard into a Christmas wonderland that had my kids squealing with delight.

  

There was a similar squealing moment several days later when the kids and I came home late from school to the sight of dark figures on our own roof.  We squinted for a moment until Lucy burst out with recognition, "It's Mr. Crippen!!"  

Sherelda had pizza for all the kids to picnic on while Chris and a couple of his big boys worked on the roof.  

The lights are beautiful!!!!!  So cheerful and hopeful and twinkling!  But it's the love that we're shoving deep into our pockets.  And not just the kind that comes on rooftops.  Also the kind that comes via text messages and phone calls, blog comments and Christmas cards.  The kind that's delivered anonymously to our doorstep.  And especially the kind that *overflows* when I see my kids curled up by their grandma...

...or when I sit in the living room and listen to her fingers playing carols on the piano.

Those are the moments I wish I could somehow hang on to.  But I've got to remember that even though time is fleeting, and moments don't last - love does.  So I'm putting as much in my pockets as I possibly can!

Hair

Thank you, dear friends, for your support and prayers.  It means so much to our family.

Since I'm in the mode of preserving important memories, here are a few recent shots of Spencer's morning hair.

Because I would hate to forget. 

=)

Well...

...it looks like we're back to a box of tissues by the bed and late nights of therapeutic blogging.

It's that kind of holiday season for us.  The real kind.  The kind that doesn't bother much with trimmings and trappings, but that treasures every minute of togetherness and savors every last drop of love.

We visited Mom in the hospital the Friday before Thanksgiving.  She was weary from days of exploratory surgeries and yellow from a dangerously high bilirubin count.  But the minute Dad took Lucy and Spencer out of the room to stretch their legs, she determinedly told me the news:  pancreatic cancer; six months - give or take.

I nodded soberly and tried to match her determination, but we could only lock eyes for a moment before the nurse bustled in to perform a blood pressure check and provide shift change information.  I attempted to follow the routine conversation, tried to nod at all the right times, but finally had to turn my eyes to the floor as tears leaked out in a silent flow.  Brenda reached for my hand and held it securely until the nurse finished her business and left us alone.

Thanksgiving came six days later.  And it was wonderful.  Mom came home from the hospital.  And everyone else came home too.  We were only minus two missionaries.

In lots of ways, everything was normal.  Julie's jello salad, Brent's squash soup, Lucy curled up outside with cousins and cats.  But some things were different.  Mom was wearing an oxygen tube when she wasted us all in her first-ever game of "Heads Up" with Haley's phone.

Dad's face was pinched tightly with tears before our Thanksgiving prayer.  And nobody complained even once during the prolonged and smashed together process of several dozen family pictures.

The rest of the week was totally unscheduled.  Everyone came and went.  I loved that Julie and Mark both made quiet, independent trips to the store and returned with trunks full of almost identical contents - from water softener salt to minky soft blankets.  They'd even selected the same brand of soup to stockpile in Mom and Dad's fridge.

All the while, Mom, modeling a cozy line of flannel, floral nightgowns, sat in the corner rocking chair of her bedroom and sometimes enjoyed, sometimes tolerated the way we all rotated through in different configurations of children and grandchildren, neighbors and friends.  Sometimes we sat in chairs and on benches and smiled and cried.  Other times we sprawled across Mom and Dad's kingsized bed and laughed.  LAUGHED.

And there's certainly more of all that to come.  More crying and laughing.  And there's a heaviness to be born.  But I know there will be help to carry the burden.

My heart these past weeks has treasured up Isaiah's description of the Savior, "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief...Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows." (Isaiah 53)

The Sunday after Thanksgiving, Sacrament Meeting opened with hymn #95:

Now thank we all our God
With hearts and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things hath done,
In whom his earth rejoices;
Who, from our mothers' arms,
Hath blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love
And still is ours today.

My voice cut out after that fifth line,

but my heart continued to sing,

Oh, may our bounteous God
Through all our life be near us,
With ever-joyful hearts
And blessed peace to cheer us.

Red Barn

Love this tradition and these friends!

Neverland

It's the same as having wings.

Peter Pan and Tiger Lily were thrilled to have so many friends join them for an afternoon in Neverland. 

"I don't know whether you have ever seen a map of...a child's mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the time." 

Pirate Cove

"There are zigzag lines on it...and these are probably roads in the island, for the Neverland is always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here and there..."

Mermaid Lagoon

"[There are] coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing, and savages and lonely lairs...and caves through which a river runs..."

Indian Camp

"It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is also first day at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needle-work, murders, hangings, verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day, getting into braces, say ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth yourself, and so on, and either these are part of the island or they are another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing, especially as nothing will stand still."

Pixie Hollow

"Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal.  John's, for instance, had a lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was shooting, while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying over it.  John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael in a wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together.  John had no friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by its parents; but on the whole the Neverlands have a family resemblance, and if they stood still in a row you could say of them that they have each other's nose, and so forth.

On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles."

"Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact; not large and sprawl, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed."*  

I honestly don't know whether the kids had more fun playing, or whether I had more fun watching them.  Either way, it was the happiest of days.

We had a little "treasure exchange" instead of traditional birthday presents.  But we did sing to the birthday boy, and he was the first to open his loot (with the help of his dagger, to be sure).

Regrets include that I didn't take a picture of Peter and his shadow (although the light was perfect),

and that I forgot to take a group picture until after six friends had already left!

But.  Regrets aside, we had a great time.  We read Disney's Dave Barry/Mary Blair version of Peter Pan (i love those concept art stories!) as our guests sporadically arrived,

Then after "following the leader" for a two-minute tour of Neverland (including directives such as "no throwing sand in Pirate Cove"..."pixie dust and other art supplies stay on this table"..."hands and feet only in Mermaid Lagoon,"... etc, etc....I'm sure my kids are so embarrassed thrilled to have a Kindergarten teacher as a mom =),  we met back at the gate where each child declared his/her "happiest" thing (so fun to hear them all!) and then flew on in for two hours of unorganized, uninterrupted play.  Well, almost uninterrupted.  There were two times the "tick tick tock" of the croc was heard and we had to hide in the shade until he was gone.  But we had ice cream sandwiches and popcorn to help pass the time while we waited.  =)

We sent each guest home with their "treasure" from the exchange, and with a cupcake baked in an inverted ice-cream cone...loosely resembling a teepee.  

The "after party" was just as fun.  A few presents were opened and enjoyed (including the clay above), and when all our guests had been picked up, I told Lucy and Spencer that if they'd help me clean up quick, I'd take them to Wendy's for dinner.  They gathered up trash and helped put away the art supplies in a flash, but then persuaded me to leave the main elements of Neverland intact for a private family picnic.  

The kids ate in the tent and I threw out a blanket in Mermaid Lagoon.

Lucy eventually brought out a book, and Spencer talked me into the teepee to put together puzzles.

We've had repeat versions of Neverland ever since...even in the rain.

Pirate Cove has been renamed Crocodile Creek. 

And we're piling up lots of wet socks and muddy boots.  

But that's ok. 

*Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie