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.

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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.

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.

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.

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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.

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?

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?

I think that we often don’t realize we are hard-hearted till it’s too late.  We just go through life and our hearts grow harder and dryer.  When we finally do realize that we’ve become as hard, dry, cracked as the floor of a drought ridden land it takes some major, slow watering to rejuvenate our heart.

My husband and I have been on a journey for the past few years.  With my human eyes I see little if any progress.  I feel like we should be farther along than we are and I have grown quite weary.  Weary of walking, weary in praying, weary in seeking Him.  All despite praying that I would not lose passion and would not grow weary.  I can tell you that I had down “looking like everything was good”; but as I look back now I see evidences that it wasn’t.  Fights with my husband.  Not wanting to go to church.  I hadn’t really read my Bible in I couldn’t say how long.  Prayer was all but absent.

We are going through the book Crazy Love by Francis Chan in our community groups at church.  It is an amazing book, and very impacting.  I’d already read most of it by the time we started doing community groups.  Last week at group our pastor asked someone how she was doing and what she said could have been me on the flip side of my hard heart.  What was becoming her past was my present.  I recognized that my heart was hard and that I needed to change and even had the slightest desire to, but I really didn’t want to.  I felt justified. {Reminder we are never justified except by Jesus’ blood.}  Then Sunday at church we studied Psalm 63.  God started breaking about the hard ground that my heart had become.  I was ready to start bawling before the message was over.  My sister-in-law and brother-in-law led worship that night.  Within the first measures of the song I was deeply in tears.  I could feel Him pouring tiny amounts of water on and breaking apart the dry ground.  Every song we lifted to Jesus that night was my heart’s cry.

Five days later and I admit I’m still struggling.  I still feel weary.  I still struggle to read my Bible and pray.  I still want to justify my hard heart.  I know that this is going to take time.  I didn’t get here over night and He isn’t going to allow me to be “all better” over night.  I covet your prayers.