Confessions of a Christmas-aholic

In years past, my tree is up before Thanksgiving (yay artificial trees!), I listen to Christmas from Labor Day to Epiphany, my house is decorated a little bit at a time until Christmas Day. I buy Christmas gifts from October to about mid December so I don't have to make a mad dash. 

This Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas at all. I realized today that we are a week and a half away from the day itself. I have no tree. No nativity sets out; I have 12, give or take. The new matching stockings are in the car, waiting to go to the monogrammer. I just started Christmas music about a month ago. My Advent wreath is in the closet. My only decoration is the wreath on my front door. 

I tell myself that illness and injury have prevented it. That's partially true. But, in reality, it just hasn't been something I've wanted to do this year. There are plenty of reasons, not the least of which is postponing the big family gatherings. The first Christmas where I won't see my sister. The first Christmas since my grandmother passed away. The first Christmas with so many changes that I can't list here. All of these have affected my mood in a less than positive way. 

But tonight, I found a book, Christmas Stories for Bedtime, at the grocery store. It is meant for kids 5-8 but my 3 year old really enjoyed it. All of the book is sections of the birth narrative with prayers and songs. As I read to C (and B) about Gabriel's visit to Mary, I was reminded that Christmas ISN'T about the decorations, the music, the gifts, or even our families. It IS about the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. 

(FYI, that's the tree at church!) ;)

I am in the Christmas spirit once more. Not the commercial trappings of a Santa-driven holiday, but the real deal. The gift that changed the world. Will I still go buy gifts for those on my list? Yes, even if it means the mall on Christmas Eve! Will I still listen to Christmas music? Absolutely, and sing along! But I will also return to my Advent devotionals of years past that keep me focused AND I will do the same for my kids. Merry Christmas, y'all!

On the eve of Cam's 3rd birthday...

Tomorrow my son turns 3. It is a day that 6 years ago I was told would never happen. I was told I was infertile, that we would need expensive treatments to *hope* we would have a baby, that I was broken (my words not the doctor's). I cried so much I got sick in my front yard. I prayed. I got ANGRY. I prayed some more. I became depressed. I prayed more. I had a hard time going to friends' baby showers, not because I wasn't happy for them but because I was despairing. I continued to pray. 

That process continued from November of 2007 until January of 2010. What changed? Well, I got the flu in January and lost 10 pounds - YUCK! Then I decided I needed to keep working towards losing the weight. Low and behold, shedding some weight and getting my head in a good place seemed to do the trick. We were having our miracle. Throughout the pregnancy I knew our chances that this would be our only baby were pretty high. So I cherished everything. Down to singing the Doxology when I saw the positive pregnancy test! (Yes, really.)

On November 8th, I was induced. Believing thoroughly that it would be that day that Cam was born, my students made a calendar at school saying that was his birthday. Alas, even then Cam was strong-willed. He came at 2:50 pm on the 9th. :) Oh my sweet boy, you can never understand just how much that moment touched my soul. 

So tonight, 3 years later, as we were hanging out before his bedtime, when he brought me books, I read them, even the kid cookbook made by my Granny, where we chose things to make together (hot wassail and fudge)! The second book, also made by Granny who turned 100 this week, was the manger story. Then my husband reread it, as any parent of a preschooler knows is absolutely necessary. My hubby and I then broke out into "Away in a manger". Cam insisted that we stop singing since this book didn't have a button (meaning the VeggieTales book of the same name). We didn't so he joined in. It was one of my most favorite moments of his little life. We continued singing other hymns that are our favorites, though we did stick to Christmas ones (yes I know it's early and Advent comes first!). When we got to "O little town of Bethlehem", Cam wanted so bad to join us but didn't know the words so he chimed in with E-I-E-I-O. This is how we celebrated with our miracle. Tomorrow there will be cake and presents. Today there was an informal worship. 

The Apple Orchard and life lessons

Last week we were in Massachusetts for my sister's wedding so we decided to take the kids to an orchard. Living in a region where they just aren't found, we thought it would be fun, different and educational. 

We, upon my sister's recommendation, headed out to Honey Pot Hill Orchard. If you are up near Boston, you should TOTALLY check them out. My son loved picking the apples and the Spencer apples were the BEST apples I have ever eaten. Cam even found a long stick to "get the apples out of the sky"! After the apple picking, we had fun at the petting zoo area. He got to feed goats and pigs. But his favorite was talking to the chickens. Even better for us was when he saw an egg in the coop and explained where it came from and what it might contain (baby chicken or food). 

Because of the way all the orchards up there price the picking, we had to pick well more than we could possibly eat before heading home. Likewise, taking them home isn't an option because of some law about transporting them across state lines. As a result, we decided to donate them to a food pantry. We called around until we found one that was open and that would take our apples. We had to have them to Saint Brigit's Catholic Church of Framingham by 9:30 the next morning. So Friday morning, after our breakfast of apples, apple cider donuts and fresh apple cider, we talked to Cam (and Bailey) about feeding the needy. We read Matthew 25:31-45 as a family. Cam informed us that they sing about it at school. :D And then we bundled up and headed out. We all went to the church, got out and handed the volunteer our bag of apples. He was appreciative and Cam was excited by the whole process.

From this point forward, we will strive to do something for others with the kids as often as possible. I want my kids to have a servant's heart and to help others as they are able. My fervent prayer is that they grow to love missions as I have but that as they become adults thy do a better job of fitting it in their lives than I have. 

A new worry: Children's Sermon

For those not raised in the church, the phrase church home is an odd one. For me as a child, the church was an extension of my home. I spent probably equal amounts of waking time at home, at school and at church. My father was the senior pastor (and usually the only pastor) of the churches that he served during my childhood, with one exception -- A & M UMC and Wesley Foundation. To me, church wasn't just something we did on Sunday mornings. We were, as a family, at church a lot. When my dad had meetings, we either stayed home or, if Mom was on a committee or in a Bible study, in the church nursery. As we grew up, there were times that we ran the nursery! The saying in our house was that if the church was open, we were there. 

It is hard on pastor's kids to know how to treat the church. On the one hand, it is a place of worship. On the other, it is a place where you feel like you are at home and can be yourself. And yet, it is your parent's workplace. How then to behave? Well if you are me, you do your best to treat it as your home. Maybe not the best plan. 

Over the years my parents have collected a great many "Patty" stories. Almost all of them are things I did in church, often during worship. One of the favorites is when I was between the ages of 3 and 6 (guessing based on where we were serving). My best performances, because in my mind at the time that was what they were, occurred around Children's Sermon. This one is no different. My mom usually sat at the back ready to scoop me up and run out of worship when I would misbehave. This particular Sunday was no different, but oh how she wished it had been. Children's Sermon had ended without much issue. The kids had made their way back to their seats, with one notable exception, ME! Mom noticed people leaning out to look at the center aisle, laughing. She looked. There I was leap-frogging down the aisle, complete with ribbits, back to our pew. This earned a scoop, run, and spank in the garden. To this day my family jokes that the garden at A & M UMC should be named the Patty Hume Spanking Garden because of how many I got there!

This past Sunday, I understood how my mom must have felt. Generally, Cam goes to the nursery during church. He's not quite three so he really doesn't "get" church yet. But this week we were joining Christ UMC Sugar Land. So we kept both kids in the service with us. Cam was good up to the Children's Sermon so we let him go down by himself. No biggie! He was great. He sat quietly and listened as the associate pastor talked about tithing. He waited patiently in line for his dime to put in the offering plate. Then all the other kids went to their seats or Children's Church. And Cam stood there. In the center of the chancel area, he stood, grinning, but thoroughly unsure of what comes next. Naturally I went to get him. Then, in his loudest voice, he exclaimed, "He gived me a penny, mama!" Everyone started laughing. Oh no. No. My child will not be like me!

Upon telling this story on Facebook, a friend, a pastor's wife herself and a friend of my parents, reminded me that my folks have been waiting decades for this. She didn't say it but they are awaiting payback. And they are. Especially my mom. 

By the time we went down to join at the end of the service, Cam was beyond ready to play. During the closing hymn, we stood with the pastor, ready to become part of this family and call this church our home, and I was again reminded of my own stories as I watched my so.  My son couldn't stand still. He was trying to crawl through the alter rail. My sweet husband wrangled Cam, finally resorting to swaying him by his arms. I saw several folk kindly laughing with the almost 3 year old that was full of energy. These folks are now our family. This is now our home. 

Strong was her faith

This post is only indirectly related to my kids but I feel the need to share my thoughts on some of my personal devotional. I am studying a book by the same title as this post. One of may favorite Christian scholars wrote it, J. Ellsworth Kalas, and, as have been all of his books that I have read, it has provoked me in all the right ways. 

The first chapter was about Elizabeth, mother of John. Elizabeth, who for many years was infertile, was overjoyed for Mary at the news of her pregnancy. She never mentions her own struggles to young Mary when she came to visit, pregnant and unwed. The secon chapter was about Anna, the prophet, and her wait for the Savior. Why do these two weigh on my heart so much?

Those that have known me for a long time, and know my history, probably can see some of the reasons. In late 2007, my hubby and I started trying to have a family. By June of 2008, I was still not pregnant and was fairly certain there was a problem. I suggested to the doctor that I felt like either it was PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) or a thyroid issue. I was really hoping for the thyroid as that is usually easily fixed. I wasn't so lucky. It was PCOS and I was referred to a specialist.

Due to Hurricane Ike, I didn't get to see my specialist until November. After meeting with her and running tests, she told me, in the kindest terms possible, that I would likely never get pregnant without medical help. At $1400 a MONTH, which insurance would not cover, we couldn't even begin to dream of it. I was devastated. I had wanted to be a mommy for so long and the dream seemed gone. I identify so much with Elizabeth. She couldn't have children, and in those days it was considered as an issue with your spiritual well being. 

Well, getting the diagnosis hurt mine. I was depressed. I absolutely had a crisis of faith. Why would God let people who had no business being parents get pregnant but not me? While I was always happy for friends who got pregnant during that time, I couldn't always face the pain of my own condition. You see I wasn't strong like Elizabeth.

Throughout those years, I prayed like Anna. I waited. My husband, my rock told me that it would happen in God's time. I wanted to believe. I wanted to have that kind of faith. I knew that God would make a path for either conception or for adoption at some point. I knew it in my soul. 

But it was hard to be patient and wait. Anna waited until a very old age to see and proclaim Jesus as the CHRIST. I imagine during that time that she was a young widow, she wondered what her role would be, since she wasn't a mother or a wife. I was a wife but not a mother. And I, too, wondered what my role was as I waited.

Looking back, I know what it was. I was a teacher. As a high school teacher, I am all too aware of how I am perceived by society. Many don't think much of what we do. "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." Never mind that it is a gross misstatement of most of the teachers I know. Think back to one teacher that made a difference in your life. I bet someone springs to mind. I have several. Teachers who loved me through my unloveable stages. Teachers who mentored me into this career. Teachers who were like a second (third, fourth) mother. Teachers who I could come to with anything. If I named them here, I would, invariably, leave someone out so I choose not to name them. So many of them were, and still are, special to me and dear to my heart. 

Today, I had a moment where I understood that I have made a difference in the lives of my students, even when I was in deep depression and couldn't see my way straight. I have a former student who recently had a baby. This little baby is only 5 pounds (perfectly healthy, just petite!) and doesn't fit, yet, into the cloth diapers her mommy has for her. So I met up with my former student and gave her our tiny newborn sized cloth to use until the little princess is bigger. 

When I got home, my student and I got into a conversation on Facebook. And as she thanked me, I reminded her of something that I always told them, "You are my kids. And once my kid, always my kid." They were (and are) my babies. Even when I didn't have kids living in my home, those students were MINE and NO ONE was allowed to mess with them. Huh, maybe I was a mother even during my dark days.

I wonder if that was kind of how Elizabeth felt about Mary? As though Mary, her cousin, was HERS. In the days when being pregnant out of wedlock and with someone other than your betrothed was seriously bad news, Elizabeth loved Mary, took care of Mary, and didn't judge Mary. Elizabeth laid claim to her. Maybe, just maybe, I am more like Elizabeth than I ever thought. I like that. 

The little white lies that we tell our children

As my husband and I headed to the grocery store, my weird little brain had a thought -- why do we as a society talk about Santa knowing if we are good or bad and use it as the reason we should be "good". What brought this on in early October? We won't do Elf on a Shelf because we don't do Santa in the traditional sense nor do we like the message sent that you should be good because someone is watching. I had seen the beginning of Christmas pins on Pinterest some related to the Elf. I then started thinking of the song, "Santa Claus is coming to town". "He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good. So be good for goodness sake." Besides being creepy as all get-out (and I love all things Christmas), we tell kids in to be good for the sake of goodness but then say that someone will judge them if they are not "good" enough. Woah. No. I don't like that at all. 

So because my brain is a little weird and thought of this, I shared my thought with my husband. He hadn't ever noticed that line either. Then he mentioned that it is kind of like telling kids to be nice because God is watching. Again, no! Jesus never, to my knowledge, preached that we should follow His teachings only because He is watching. My understanding and belief is that we should follow them because that is what we are called to do. Whether anyone notices or watches or what have you, I want my kids to follow those teachings: treat others with kindness, be honest, treat mom and dad with respect, don't be jealous of others, don't cheat, honor God and put Him first, don't steal, don't murder, don't take God's name in vain, keep the Sabbath. There are a few of those that I need to work on too. ;)

It has become such a common theme in our society to do something because we are being watched, because someone will notice if we do/don't do whatever, because there will be a consequence that we don't even notice it anymore. But the truth is, there is no physical or monetary reward to being nice, be nice anyway. The reward that you reap for being kind/honest/respectful is that you know in your heart of hearts the you are being good. This is why if anyone ever teaches my children to be good because Santa and/or God are watching, I will swiftly tell you, and my children, that they are to be good even because that is what they are called to do, no matter who sees or doesn't see them.

What is the love of Christ?

Blessing-time is quickly becoming my favorite part of the bedtime routine! We have some of the best discussions spring from it. Tonight C, my son, asked, "Love of Christ, what is it?" So we talked about how much I love him and that the Jesus loves him even more. He still seemed a little confused so I told him that Jesus loves him more than Mommy, Daddy, Grand-mère (my mom), Grand-père (my daddy), Mama Shari (my hubby's mom), Papa Bear (my hubby's dad) and (his addition) all the dogs COMBINED. He was impressed by that. Then I asked him if he knew the song Jesus Loves Me. He said yes and I asked him to start it. He commenced with, "the Bible tells me so." :D Since I have only sung that one a few times, I'm thinking that he learned it at Mother's Day Out.

New routines

On the heels of last night's faith talk, I decided that our morning routine needed some tweaking. Our old routine was to go potty, put on clean undies, eat breakfast and watch the news (okay, the Today show) until I start work at 8 am. Anything that you notice is missing? Yep, no God time for me or the kids. So this morning, between undies and breakfast, we add in a devotional. My daughter didn't get much from it since she's only five and a half months but the routine will established for her. My son, on the other hand, hopefully now knows that Jesus is his friend and there is nothing he can do that would cause Jesus not to love him. This devotional book is VeggieTales and specific to boys but I want to find additional devotional books for kids. Any suggestions?

Who knew?

Tonight I discovered that my son LISTENS to me. Who knew? My sweet boy is nearly 3 and, as most parents know, rarely seems to listen to the important (and good stuff) stuff. Sure, he's picked up some of the not-so-good, like Daddy's favorite expressions when driving in traffic. But the really core of who my husband and I are and what we believe? Nah. We thought it was above his head and he had tuned us out. 

I need to go back a few days so that some of this makes sense. We recently started attending a different church and they invited us to go to a breakfast for families who had recently had a new baby. At this breakfast on Saturday, the children's coordinator spoke about how parents sharing their faith had a greater impact on their children than any program of the church. This struck a hug chord with me because, as much as we believe, we haven't been great about consistently attending church since the one we tried to help start failed. 

One of the stories shared at the breakfast was that of a father who blessed his daughter every night before bed using the same scripture (Numbers 6:24-26) from about 2 years old until she left for college. When he and his wife dropped the daughter off at college they had a plan: say goodbye in the dorm room, grab each other's hand, walk out to the car without looking back. The plan worked except they hadn't planned on the familiar voice calling out, "Mom! Dad!" as they reached their car. You see, their daughter had run after them. Why? Because she wanted, needed her father to bless her as he had every night for so many years.

At the end of the story, I was in tears. I want that for both of my kids. I want them to know that I love them and that I love God and that I pray His richest blessings on and for them. How do I even begin? At this same breakfast, the church gave us beautiful scrapbooks to keep track of our kids' faith journey. One of the pages of the scrapbook contains several scripture-blessings and they asked us to pick one for our children. I chose Ephesians 3:17-19. "And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."

Ever since Saturday, I have said this blessing over my children. Tonight my son said 3 words back, albeit not in the right places, "power of Christ". My husband and I asked if he knew who Christ is. "Jesus is Christ." Woah. He DOES listen. And what's more, he wanted to know more. We explained that Jesus is God's son and that he was sent to save us. He then asked for. Jesus book for a bedtime story. 

We have MANY books that are Bible stories but only maybe 5 about Jesus himself. Most of those are about Christmas. So of course the first one we found was VeggieTales' Away in the Manger, with Junior Asparagus singing. As soon as my son saw it, he exclaimed, "It's a Jesus and Bob book!" Clearly our work has just begun but at least we are headed in the right direction.