On Sunday morning our choir sang our Christmas program.   At 7:30 am, we were “warming up” in the church basement.  We had one service at 8:00 am, and another at 10:30.  When I looked down from the balcony, I spotted my husband in the congregation, and wondered who the woman was sitting by him.  OH!  It was our daughter and her youngest son.  I was so honored that she came.  Her husband was singing in a cantata at their church, so she had gone to early service there, then come to ours for late.  Our group is more traditional, theirs more modern, in choice of music.

Then on Sunday evening, our grandsons performed in the children’s program at their church.  This traditional program includes acting out the account of the birth of Jesus.  One of the songs was one we don’t hear so much any more: The Friendly Beasts.  The costumes were mostly hoods with the ears or horns of the various animals.  Each animal has a verse telling what gift he gave to the Christ child.  “I, said the donkey, carried his mother.”  It is a tender song, reminding us that whatever we have, how ever small, we may give as a gift.

All this music is now swirling around in my head, and I sing out fragments as I go about my day.  “Let no earthly tongue keep silent, let creation praise the Lord.   Alleluia, allelu, alleluia!”

My high school choir director gave me my life motto, worth remembering as we hear of continual tragedy around the world:

“No matter what happens, KEEP ON SINGING!”

Recently I have been awakening at 3:30 am.  Sometimes I stay awake until about 6 am, then go back to sleep.  The problem is I am then disoriented for the whole day.  This morning at 3:30 am I looked outside at the black sky brilliant with stars.  It reminded me of an old song, “Oh how beautiful the sky, with the sparkling stars on high….”  I don’t recall the rest of it, do you?

Our choir program will be Sunday morning.  We’ve had the final rehearsal, but I am not quite confident of all the music.  I was sick and missed some rehearsals, and my voice is not quite ready for those high e, f, and g notes. On Saturday, I’m meeting with another singer who also has a piano in her home.  Maybe I can be prepared by Sunday morning.  I’m so grateful for my training earlier this year. Without that, I wouldn’t even attempt an f, much less a g.  The beauty of singing in a choir instead of solo is that I can drop out for a minute and let the others carry the song.  I don’t like to do that, but sometimes I have too.  So do  the others.

Our drought continues—we have no snow.  While it is easier to get around without snow, we realize our ground is dry and thirsty.  It is a reminder that our souls are dry and thirsty too, and in need of the water of eternal life.  Christmas music is a vessel for that water—drink all you can, and carry some to share with those around you.

On this day in the year 1941, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii.  President Roosevelt called it “A day which will live in infamy” in his speech declaring war on Japan.  In those days, a “war” had a beginning and an end.

My parents, on December 2, 1941, stood before a Justice of the Peace, and were declared married.  In the picture always called the wedding picture, my Dad is wearing his Army Air Force uniform.  Five days later, the USA entered the world war that was already raging in Europe and Asia.  My dad left my mom for his assignment in January, 1942.  Throughout my life, when points of decision arose, I heard my mom say, “The world could go to war tomorrow.”  It was her way of saying, “Take the risk, don’t delay.  Go forward, take action.”

Today’s “wars” drag on and on, are not declared, and seem to have no particular purpose.  Has the world changed so much, or has my perception changed?  Some of both perhaps.  There is so little I understand, but one thing I do perceive is this: we are continually engaged in a battle for our souls.  Will we find our way to truth and life, or lose our way in the confusion of this world?

Today we remember St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, 270–343 AD.  He was a man of extraordinary kindness.  Although he has been forgotten by many people, in some parts of the world he is still important.  Today is his day, because it commemorates the day of his death.  The mythical figure of Santa Claus, giver of extraordinary gifts, is based on this real, historically attested person.  Since my children are grown, I don’t do anything special today, except to give thanks to God that this person lived his life and left us a model of kindness and sacrificial giving.  You can learn much more about him by searching the wonderful world of the internet.  I especially liked the site stnicholascenter.org  by Jim Rosenthal.

It’s December 4–20 days until Christmas Eve.  It isn’t quite so busy  a time as it was when we were young, but we still have a lot to prepare, as to cleaning, organizing the rooms for company, special food, and programs to attend and to perform.

We have both been sick, and are trying to recover.  For husband, it has already been a 6 day siege, while for me, it is only 3 days so far.  We cancelled our obligations for yesterday and today in favor of rest.   I hope that you, dear reader, are well and happy during this season.

Now we are in the season of Advent, a time of repentance and preparation for the Second Coming of Christ.  We are also preparing for the celebration of the first coming of Christ into our world.  Most people in America probably are not aware of Advent, since it is not emphasized as much as it once was, and since we are not a homogenous society.  But for liturgical people, it is a time of deep reflection, and sober consideration of life.  This year, with all the attention given to the Mayan calendar, maybe more people are thinking about the end of the world, and maybe some of those people will wonder about spiritual life.  It’s certainly difficult in America to think about spiritual life in the midst of our materialist culture.

It is a well attested fact that Jesus Christ of Nazareth was born, lived and died in Israel.  No one can dispute this fact.  It is also well attested that Jesus rose from the dead, and ascended to heaven.  He claimed to be God.  Christians believe he is God. For us, Christmas is the celebration of God incarnate as man.  All the gifts, parties, decorations, romance, music, and family gatherings are secondary.  The primary focus is the love of God for the people he created.  Man is in a mess, but God is a clean up expert.  God himself came to earth to redeem man from all evil.

The heart banner I made for our choir program (see the post: sewing) stands for the heart of God, and for our open hearts to receive grace and love from God.  Is your heart open to truth and grace?    That is the Advent question for all of us to ponder.

In October, our church choir director talked about our special program for December 16.  She said she was envisioning how it would look in the front of the church.  She said she was thinking of a heart and she formed her hands in that shape.  After the rehearsal, I talked with her and asked her to define more fully what she wanted.  I volunteered to make this for her.  I haven’t done any sewing for four years, and I sold my machine four years ago.  I was thinking, “I still have my mother’s machine from the 1950’s, so I can do it.”  Well!  The machine had some problems, so I took it to a repair guy.  Oh, he had so many in line before mine.  So I borrowed my daughter’s machine.  I bought some fabric, and started in.  I had fun experimenting, but my first project didn’t work as I had hoped.  On to the next idea.  Then, when the newspaper ladies wanted to come to take those pictures, I had to put everything away.  And I only got it out again after all the company left.  Meanwhile my machine was finished and I brought it home.  Alas!! I still have problems with it.  But, since I had the other machine, I was able to finish the project.  It is far from perfect, and I can think of many quilters who could do finer work.  But it is my offering, and it is what I could accomplish.  I hope it meets the director’s expectation. Picture a white background with a red heart outline.  Simple in the end, but not so simple in the process.

In contrast to the Thanksgiving weekend, it is quite warm now.  On Sunday, I went outside in just a light jacket, and planted some chrysanthemums which I had bought in October.  I had thought it was too late to put them in the ground, but they were still green, and the weather was so warm, I planted them.  I also cut back the asparagus ferns, weeded the bed, and put some compost on the bed.  I had been waiting for the ferns to turn brown, and the last heavy frost did that.  Even so, there were a few green ones still present.  The plants are confused I think.  I have found tiny shoots of bulbs already coming up.  The seeds in the straw I used for mulch have come up as green grass, I think alfalfa.  I’m letting it grow, and will tun it under in the spring.  The strawberry plants are still green, as are the various ferns near the house.  I cut back the lavender plant, but it has all reappeared. I also cut a lot of mint, but that has come back too.  It’s still quite dry here, entering the second year of serious drought.  I’m mulching heavily in hopes my soil won’t dry out.

November was a flurry of activity as we finished the attic, except for staining some woodwork, entertained my sister for a few days, cleaned our house, talked with a writer from our newspaper who featured us in an article and had a visit from the photographer and writer, planned for Thanksgiving, and visited with our son who arrived for a whole week’s visit.  His arrival was somewhat of a surprise for us, as he had not told us exactly when he would be coming.  But we were delighted to have his company.  We celebrated  Thanksgiving on Friday, since our other son and his family arrived then.  All 13 of us were able to sit at one table in the dining room. We had hoped the baby would be there with us in her high chair, but she napped during dinner time.  Our feast included traditional foods such as roast turkey, cranberry relish, green beans, salad, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, gravy, rice stuffing and bread stuffing.  Traditional, in this context, means the past 200 years or so.  It also means, our family traditions.  For a long time, I could not eat wheat, and during that time, I learned to make stuffing for the turkey out of rice.  This stuffing is now a favorite of one daughter.  First, you cook the rice as usual.  Then you cut up and saute onions, celery, and mushrooms.  Mix with the rice, and put it inside the turkey for roasting.  According to your taste, you can use salt, pepper and thyme for seasonings.  The recipe was on the small box of brown rice many years ago.  I thought I had saved it somewhere, and maybe I did, but it is in my head now. These days rice comes in a big plastic bag.

Since I can eat wheat now, or at least, I do eat it, whether it is good for me or not, and since we live in the Midwest now, I make bread stuffing also.  I use the Betty Crocker recipe, with the apples and raisins, and pecans.  This year, I put the rice inside the turkey, and the bread stuffing around it in the roaster  pan.  I use an electric roaster these days—so convenient.

Our daughter acquired the turkey from a farmer.  We prefer the fresh turkey, with no additives.  This bird was delivered to me on Monday before Thanksgiving.  It had been killed only a few days before.  It is three times more expensive than the ones in the grocery store, but worth every dollar, in our family’s opinion.  It weighed more than twenty pounds, but fit in our roaster pan nicely.  On the first day, we fed 13 people.  On the second day, 12 people.  On the third day, we fed 6 people.  On the fourth day, we were back to just the two of us, and we had some sandwiches.  Then I cooked the carcass for soup, and gave half to our daughter.  Counting the meals from leftovers, we can say we served 35 people from that turkey, and the soup is still to come.  We put the broth in our freezers.

Our daughters met on Wednesday and made many many pies, about 14.  These were all eaten by the end of the third day.  They included blueberry, pecan, pumpkin, apple, peach, mincemeat.  Mincemeat is a traditional food, prepared in the fall to be ready for the festivals of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I make it from beef heart, apples, raisins, currants, oranges, lemons, sugar and spices such as cinnamon.  First I bake the meat, then chop or grind it.  Next chop the fruit, add the juices, sugar, and spices, and then pour whiskey and brandy over it.  Then it ages in a crock in a cool place, in this case the refrigerator.  To serve it, we bake it in a pie.  First you have to heat it on the stove, to get it started, then put it in the pie and bake.  You have to get it hot enough long enough to change the alcohol.  Otherwise, though it is safe to eat, you might as well just have a glass of brandy.

It was quite cold that weekend, so cold that we could store food on the porch.  But we were especially grateful for our complete family gathering, since it was the first in three years.