prudychick.com » Christmas

Story Time : A Family Affair

prudychick — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 12:00:45 +0000

Our lives are a multitude of stories. Some are sad tales, some are filled with stomach wrenching laughter, and some are family legends that grow more epic each time they’re told. Join me this week as we curl up in our favorite spot in our virtual living room. The tree casting a twinkling glow. Hot chocolate, eggnog, and cookies sit in our laps. Our friends & family sit with us as we laugh, rejoice, & begin to share our tales of Christmas.

Since I was little (aka born) Christmas has always been a family affair. Tucked away in the small house we grew up in or with Grandpa & Grandma & the my aunt, uncle, & cousins in California. We were always with family. Sometimes friends translated into family. I didn’t have necessarily a wonderful childhood, but I remember pleasant Christmases.

We grew up knowing Santa wasn’t real. Our gifts were always under the tree days before. The only thing that wasn’t put out was our stockings. Mom would fill those after we’d gone to bed on Christmas Eve and hang them on the mantle. Every year we received a new one. That was mom’s tradition. And that would be the first thing we’d open once we were allowed to take them down.

Christmas Eve if we weren’t in California had it’s own special tradition. We were each allowed to open one gift. Mom & Dad selected. Even as a teenager my brother and I looked forward to that one gift.

Today Christmas looks different, but it’s still a family affair. We’re all grown up and each of our own families. Time spent with in-laws and our own family. I have six nephews and a niece due on the 26th. We eat, we laugh, we Skype open gifts with my brother-in-law & sister-in-law in Northern California. And I hope that in the quiet of our hearts and hope even more with the words we speak we remember why we’re gathering.

I hope you enjoyed these stories as much as I did. Today I’m giving you the opportunity to share your own story. Click Mr. Linky below to share your Christmas tales.

And since we’re sharing stories I have a gift to share with you. It is a little canvas I created using written word. Portions from popular books, including Dracula, various Sherlock Holmes stories, Persuasion, and East of Eden. Leave a comment on this post to be entered to win the canvas. Contest ends: 12.31.10 at Midnight Mountain. One entry per person. Winner will be announced 01.03.11.

Story Time : Cookie Run Season by Elora

prudychick — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 12:02:42 +0000

I know it’s coming when I call home and I hear the clanging of pots and pans in the background.

“You guys baking?”

My mom goes silent for half a second and laughs. “Yes.”

My dad, most likely at the stove stirring chocolate sauce or cutting shapes out of cookie dough, calls out from behind her…

“We’ve been baking since yesterday morning.” It’s now my turn to laugh as I think about the piles of cookies on the kitchen table, the flour on every inch of countertop, and my brother stealing Hershey’s kisses out of the bowl.

This is all common place, and I can synchronize my calendar on the events. It’s Christmas, which only means one thing in the Jacobson household.

Cookie Run Season.

We’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember – maybe ten, fifteen years. [and that right there makes me feel really old.]

It started small: a few friends, family members, and our pastor. We usually left the house around 7:00pm and were home by 10:00. Over the years, it got more elaborate. Our list grew. Not only were we delivering to my parents’ friends, but my friends. And then when Blanche and Christina got old enough, we began delivering totheir friends. Which, normally? Wouldn’t be that bad – but there’s a secret about private schools most people don’t realize.

Your friends can live anywhere – not just your neighborhood….not even your district.

We had to push back times of departure because it was just taking too long. My dad, organizer that he is, would start working on google maps weeks ahead of time, charting the most gas-efficient and sanity keeping route.

Sometimes…we would be in the car long enough to drive to Oklahoma.

We eventually added in our own traditions within this night of cookies extravaganza. We’d make up games like “How many Christmas parties are we going to interrupt this year?” or “Who can give the best hint for dinner choices?” or my personal favorite, “How long will mama be talking to this person?”

There were years where stomach bugs hit the Jacobson clan, and so the cookie run was cut short.

There were years where the list was so long, dad cursed the idea the entire time only to celebrate our victorious delivery during dinner at the local Mexican joint.

There were years where, after two days of a diet of entire sugar, we all bit our lips to keep from throwing up on the winding roads of the hill country. [Russ likes to correct me here. He likes to describe it as not "winding" but speeding down roads at elevations not necessarily welcomed by even those with the strongest intestinal fortitude]

There were years where my sisters and I drove my brother and father crazy with our giggles. We couldn’t help it. Locked in a car, for hours on end with nothing but Christmas music to listen to…you’re gonna get a little silly. And many of our inside jokes originated in some way during these mini-roadtrips.

We aren’t the only people who have experienced the joy of cookie runs. Both men married into the family have experienced the trial by fire of Jacobson’s cookie run. [There's been others who didn't fair so well.] They’ve ridden the entire time, eyes wide and mouth ajar, only to look into our eyes afterwards with I’m sure a better understanding of our background. My friends in college heard about these nights all four years – and by the time I graduated – it had become a bit of a campus folktale. It’s the one thing that pops into my head when people ask me about holiday traditions – outside of grandma’s singing bird perched delicately in her Christmas tree.

As crazy as it sounds, and as much merriment and insanity and disorganization goes into one of these events with my family, it’s the one thing I miss the most.

I haven’t been able to be at the last few cookie runs. This year I’m missing it by a thread of previous engagements. I’ll be thinking of them, though. I’ll giggle at the texts my sisters and brother send me. I’ll remember serious discussions my father led while driving through the night roads. I’ll remember my mom’s look of absolute radiance with her entire family in the car – singing, laughing, talking…

And the entire time, I’ll be thinking of future traditions my own family will begin – the stories that will birth out of repetition and clockwork. The stories of home.

Elora is a story teller at heart and DNA. She is the wife of Russ. Her heart longs to see the end of the plight of the orphan and to bring freedom to the slave. You can check out her blog and follow her on Twitter.

On Friday, Dec. 24th, we will have a link up for all of us to share our Christmas stories, and I’ll have a giveaway.

Story Time : Hope & Grace Birthed by Paul

prudychick — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 12:00:49 +0000

Our best Christmas present – without equal – arrived in September 2005, a few months before the holiday.

While it gets lost sometimes in the haze of daily routines and in-the-moment challenges, the the birth of our daughter Jadyn is a milestone which comes into clearer focus at Christmastime. The desire to become parents weighed pretty heavily on Amanda and me in the early years of our marriage. Despite our best efforts, it wasn’t happening.

In June 2001, we experienced our first miscarriage. I took the typical man’s approach and encouraged her to just get over it and drive on. I’m learning better over time.

Four more Christmases came and went without a new addition to our household. Then, around New Year’s Day 2005, several tests showed Amanda was pregnant and it wasn’t a faint positive, it was a strong one.

Due to a work-related relocation, we spent our first night in Starkville, Miss. the day Hurricane Katrina bore down on the Gulf Coast then barreled its way inland. Jadyn was born about two weeks later.

We debated about what to name her and settled on “Jadyn Liana,” which means “God has heard” and “God has answered.”

The gift we have in this talented, smart and beautiful child becomes more apparent when we stop to appreciate her and admire His handiwork. The clarity gets sharper when we compare and contrast the successive Christmas photos, see the maturity over the passing years.

We are grateful for God’s provision of this special gift and we’re glad to get reminded how precious she truly is.

Since her birth we’ve encountered another round of infertility and aren’t sure at this stage whether we’ll have more children. So I write this without pat or cheap answers for those who long for a child or are mourning the loss of one they’ve had.

As we wait on God in this new phase of life, we’ve seen Him open our eyes and hearts in previously unexpected ways to things we didn’t know we needed to understand.

So it is with a refreshed sense of gratitude we look forward to another Dec. 25 watching Jadyn rip open the year’s presents and with grace-filled hope for many more to come.

Paul is husband to Amanda, father to Jadyn. He is also a writer and picture taker. He & Amanda serve with LifeChurch.TV’s church online. You can check out his blog and follow him on Twitter.

On Friday, Dec. 24th, we will have a link up for all of us to share our Christmas stories, and I’ll have a giveaway.

Story Time : This Year’s Story by Mandie

prudychick — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 12:00:41 +0000

When Prudy asked me to write about a story, a Christmas story, I was a bit overwhelmed. Or underwhelmed. I guess I was just a little uncertain because although each year Christmas is good, & I am incredibly blessed, I usually go into it expecting something, whether it’s a certain thoughtful gift or having the perfect holiday experience. Each year I feel slightly let down, and the more I think about it, it’s because my heart isn’t where it should be. Christmas really isn’t about gifts, it’s not about that special someone to kiss under the mistletoe. I’ve been reflecting a lot the last month about what I really want Christmas to mean to me, the actual reason we celebrate it, and have discovered (way late in the game) that it’s not about me. We celebrate it because of Jesus and His ultimate sacrifice for us. He came from glory and lived a sinless life, which is much more than any of us have, or will, ever do, and then to top it off, he suffered a terrible death. He lived knowing that He was going to die for us, and I get upset about not getting the great gift that I wanted, or get disappointed when I don’t get to ‘experience’ Christmas the way that seems perfect. This year, I’ve been purposing in my heart to think on Him, of Him, and the love that He must certainly have for us. I want to remember the greatest gift of all when I reflect on December 2010 and the different things we did to ‘celebrate’. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to purposely change the pattern I’m in of expecting unimportant things just because it’s Christmas and change the way that this story will be told. I’m not sure what this Christmas story will look like, but I’m hoping that I can look for ways to see joy and love and to feel His grace in the unexpected places.

Mandie is one of the most crafty people I know. She is wife to Gabe. And is an Albuquerque transplant from Michigan. You can check out her blog and follow her on Twitter. She also has an Etsy shop: Moxie Mandie.

On Friday, Dec. 24th, we will have a link up for all of us to share our Christmas stories, and I’ll have a giveaway.

Joy

prudychick — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 14:42:10 +0000

In my post on Friday I mentioned that I’d been struggling to find joy. That my heart wanted to camp out in a dark room and be by itself. This week I’m making an intentional effort to take note of joy.

#1 November 19th last year I had foot surgery to repair a torn tendon. I miss wearing heels. I went from wearing them nearly everyday to wearing them maybe once a month. I wear flats all the time. I was so excited to find these adorably cute ballet flats Friday at Ross for $6.50. Talk about JOY!!! I adore the little studded ruffle on the heel.

#2 Every year at work we have a toy drive for kids who probably wouldn’t get a gift if it weren’t for donations. I walked into work Friday morning to find this large box FULL of toys. I love that my co-workers give like this!

#3 Saturday night is generally date night for Shawn and I. This past Saturday we went to a local festival. The downtown area was decorated with thousands of tiny lights. Dancing ones. Falling ones. We dined at a new burger diner & ended our time with funnel cake. Such a blessed time to be with my husband.

#4 I tweeted yesterday that I was struck by the words of the Christmas song O’ Holy Night. Particularly this verse: “Truly He taught us to love one another; His law is love and His Gospel is peace. Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother; and in His Name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, Let all within us praise His holy Name!” Worship was so sweet this morning.

#6 I see this nearly every time I drive my car. A note left by Shawn. It’s a constant reminder that even when it seems the world is against me he loves me and he’s praying for me.

Are you finding joy?

Christmas

prudychick — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 12:29:33 +0000

Friday night Shawn and I made our way to his parents. The chill in the air was delightful. Future of Forestry sang Do You Hear What I Hear to us. As the lyrics danced in my head I started to wonder…

What fear did Mary and Joseph feel as her contractions started?

Did Joseph beat himself up, feeling as though he couldn’t provide for his family as inn door after inn door was slammed with it’s proprietor saying no room?

Did Mary’s maternal instincts fret over all the nesting she’d done as they slowly made their way to Bethlehem and the fear that she might go into labor resting on her young shoulders?

Did the angels dance in expectant jubilation as Mary’s contractions became more frequent? Did they “hold their breaths”?

What were the shepherds thinking/discussing amongst themselves as they left their fields for a rickety stable?

Did creation groan in joy as Jesus took His first breath and screamed as the chill of the night air rushed His formerly warm body?

Did Satan curse?

A Week of Thanks – Friday

prudychick — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 12:04:19 +0000

I’m thankful for bright orange yarn of hundreds of knots, wrapped around my neck. Cozy cups of coffee. Lazy mornings. The crispness of fall air and sheets with a pile of blankets. For the official start of the holiday season. For joyous Christmas music.

What are you thankful for today?

Will You Blog For Water?

prudychick — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 12:00:15 +0000

I really am living the American Dream. I have a great job. “Own” my house. Happily married with two dogs.

I can with in reasonable limits pretty much buy myself anything, my family anything they want for Christmas. I’ve been blessed beyond my ability to understand.

In that, in realizing and not taking for granted all that God has blessed me with, He’s opened my eyes to those who don’t have.

So this year for Christmas I want to give, with a heart that wants and expects nothing in return.

Will you join me?

On December 15th, 10 days before Christmas, I am going to blog for water. And I’m looking for as many people as will join me. People who will take one day from their traditional blogging to raise money for clean water.

Do you realize 90% of the 42,000 deaths that occur every week are from drinking dirty water. And not just dirty…disease ridden.

So here’s the deal. If you are interested in blogging with me email me at prudy at prudychick.com.

You can also help spread this request by tweeting: I’m going to blog for water w/@PrudyChick on Dec. 15. Will you join us? (Benefiting @CharityWater) http://bit.ly/d9MAvI.

Let’s see what we can do.

Are you in?

My Selfish Little Heart

prudychick — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 17:40:22 +0000

I’ve been dealing with a lot of heart issues the past few days. Issues I don’t normally deal with, but they’ve been rearing their ugly heads.

For Christmas this year Shawn and I felt very convicted to ask our family instead of buying us gifts that they would just give us the cash they would normally spend on us instead and we would be sending that to our little girl we sponsor with Compassion in India. This was our heart of hearts. I knew going into this that it wouldn’t be easy not receiving gifts, I mean who doesn’t like to get presents. But it was really hard. Selfishness started to bloom in my heart. I wanted to get gifts just like everyone else. My only hope was to start praying for a heart change. I’m still recovering but God is working.

Shawn and I have been blessed far greater than we ever should be. We are grateful for every blessing. Part of those blessings is blessing Nikita. We love her so much. I believe by God’s providence, we received a letter from her just days before Christmas. Shawn and I agreed to wait to open it and that would be our “gift” to open on Christmas. We opened it last night and our hearts were overjoyed.

My life has no room for a selfish or jealous heart. It was more and more room for loving on other people and blessing them.