MERRY CHRISTMAS

                                                            
     We were all between eight and twelve years old, and the kids in my neighborhood just knew that we were getting bicycles for Christmas. All of us. But we didn’t know where our parents had them stashed. The days between school getting out and Christmas morning were spent discussing, searching, and wondering where those bicycles were. We knew that our parents often hid Christmas gifts for other families and that other families often hid our gifts. That particular year, they had us stumped; and the mystery was fun for us and for our parents.

    And then—Christmas morning—there were the bikes!  My mom still has the picture of six of us lined up on our bikes with smiles as big as Texas. There was one older couple on our street whose kids were grown and gone. Their basement had held our presents the whole time. We never thought about their house as a possibility. Ah, the wisdom of parents.

    In our own family we have also enjoyed some fun Christmas mornings by adding some suspense to the mix. One year, we got Judith a little flop-eared rabbit, but we didn’t put it under the tree. We put it in the garage. Judith opened a gift that had a clue to look under the couch, where she found a clue to look in a closet, where she found a clue to look in a cabinet until she eventually found a clue to look in the garage. By the time she found the rabbit we were all hopping!

    Sometimes we used riddles to give clues. Sometimes we hid presents in a little box in a bigger box in another box.

    One family that we know hides a pickle on the Christmas tree. Whoever finds the pickle gets to open the first gift. To them that’s a big dill.

    Patricia and Anna fill each stocking with a personal touch. Anna has participated in this ritual since she was about ten.

    This week, post a comment (below) and share one of your Christmas ideas or traditions for your family. We will all have a great time reading them and we may broaden our traditions to include one of yours.

Thoughts on Memorial Day

Do you have a Memorial Day tradition? Should you? What is it all about?

We are not just launching summer fun; we are celebrating something deep and foundational. We are being asked to have a moment of silence at 3:00 p.m. on Memorial Day to remember those who have given their lives to protect our freedoms.

Silence is not enough. Our children cannot benefit from our silence. When you gather to eat, perhaps your celebration could include these short ideas as part of the blessing of the meal. Here are some thoughts that include the history of Memorial Day as well as the Gettysburg Address (only 276 words). We believe that our gatherings can be enriched by our efforts.

MEMORIAL DAY
The roots of Memorial Day go back to the Civil War. Over 600,000 soldiers died in that conflict affecting every town, village, and family in the United States. After the war ended, almost everyone would travel and decorate the graves of those who had given their lives. “Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic and was first observed on 30 May 1868.” (http://www.usmemorialday.org/backgrnd.html)

To date, including all the wars our country has fought, over 1.2 million Americans have died in defense of the freedoms that we enjoy.

The Gettysburg Address delivered by Abraham Lincoln in 1863 was to commemorate those who died on that particular battlefield. Although it was written a few years before Memorial Day was established, it expresses best what Memorial Day represents.

THE
GETTYSBURG
ADDRESS

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth
 on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and
 dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

  Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing
 whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so
 dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-
field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
 that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave
 their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether
 fitting and proper that we should do this.

  But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate…we cannot
 consecrate…we cannot hallow…this ground. The brave men,
 living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it
 far above our poor power to add or detract. The world
 will little note nor long remember what we say here, but
 it can never forget what they did here.

 

It is for us, the  living, rather, 

to be dedicated here to the unfinished
 work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly
 advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the
 great task remaining before us…that from these honored
 dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
 they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here
 highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain;
 that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of
 freedom; and that government of the people, by the people,
 for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

November 19, 1863

RELATIONSHIP: A Trail of Tears…..and Laughter

Dzzt, dzzzt, dzzzt……Multiply that sound by about one million….it’s a symphony, no, symphony is too nice a word….. a cacophony of complex critters. Busily buzzing with excitement, a million mosquitoes delighted that tonight’s dinner had been delivered. That night’s dinner was US.

It was the first night of a three week camping trip.

Did we plan to get into the park at dusk? Did we plan on wet, drizzly, even a little chilly weather now that the sun had gone down? It was only the second time we had set up the pop-up camper. Did I say the second time WE had set up the camper? I should say it was only the second time Keith had set up the camper. The WE part of setting up camp had not yet evolved.

By the end of this memorable trip, we had honed the set up procedure down to a science: 13 deliberate, ordered steps—each child and adult doing his part.

But, as I said, this was only the second stop. We pulled into historical Trail of Tears State Park overwhelmed by the history surrounding us. But it wasn’t long until our reality overshadowed our wonder with history.

By now it was night time. None of us knew what to do, except Keith. There we were, six offspring (ages 5-15) and the mom, alternating between being mosquito bait and asking, “Are we done yet?” to dashing back into the car for relief. I think it was actually THIS trip when one of our favorite family one-liners was born: “Dad got mad.”

Keith continued the set up process. . . It was a memorable night.

The next morning, we left St. Louis called “Gateway to the West” and began the drive across the plains. The plains, filled with corn and wheat, lived up to their attributed beauty. The vast fields really were “amber waves of grain”.

Driving on Interstate 70 we actually felt like we were on a wagon train, pioneering into the unknown frontier. Driving for hours over flat countryside caused the looming Pike’s Peak to be an incredulous unreality. …..But there it was. Amazing beauty.

This stop actually afforded us more than one memorable moment.

As we ascended towards the peak, the hairpin turns on this gravel road gave even the strongest of us mountain lovers our share of panic as our giant Suburban lumbered to the top. Even though I am a California gal with a great love of the mountains, even this was a bit much. I envisioned our entire family as the headline in the local paper’s next day edition. “Entire Family Falls Off Mountain Road”.

Arriving at the top, the sheer splendor surrounding us was staggering. We understood how song writer Kathy Lee Bates had penned the words to “America the Beautiful” as she stood atop this glorious mountain and looked out at the majestic view.

Our trip down the mountain was equally as breath taking….we kept sucking in breath as we make S-curve after S-curve. It actually proved to be too much for our youngest guy, then 5, who began to vomit incessantly from all the altitude activity!

It was at that point that I began to question the purpose of the journey, “Why are we doing this? Was this supposed to be fun?”

I didn’t realize it at the time but this trip built so many memories that it solidified our family identity. Ten years later, when we as a family sit and talk and laugh, one memory or another from that trip always finds its way into the conversation.

This summer, plan to build some family memories. You’ll be glad you did!