Deck the Halls and other Traditions

Every year after the Christmas decorations are up and the tree is glistening in all its glory, I play my favorite CD that was purchased at a Christmas pageant called “Child of the Promise” written and produced by Michael & Stormie Omartian. My husband also purchased an album because we were not yet married, and we each wanted our own copy.

Hearing Bible verses sung by Donna Summer, Steven Curtis Chapman, Vince Gill, Amy Grant, and Michael W. Smith, to name a few, really gets me in the mood for Christmas.

After my divorce from my children’s father, and the scattering of my children to the far corners of the U.S; I was left feeling shattered and broken. I had always loved this Holy holiday, but after this I could barely deal with Christmas. When the last two were gone, I stopped decorating altogether. It brought back too many precious, but painful memories.

It wasn’t until I met my current husband 16 years ago that I finally began to celebrate Christmas in baby steps. 

My dear husband helped me to heal. He stood by me, cared for me, and restored my faith in myself and in my God.

I remembered those long ago years when I filled up the empty spaces in my heart with work and good deeds. I Decked the Halls to excess, and cooked up a storm for friends and family. I started so many new traditions each year that I could hardly keep up with them. So in looking for a topic for this blog, I decided to forewarn you: beware of what you start. It has to be done each year (others will demand it), and what you add makes your annual job get bigger and bigger.

My traditions started with the making and decorating of a Gingerbread House. Of course, the children plastered the house and yard with so many candies that the roof became top heavy, but that was part of its charm. After Christmas, they looked forward to smashing the house and eating the candy-covered pieces. I also rolled out gingerbread men for ornaments at the same time.

Then there was the making of doughnuts for our Christmas morning breakfast. I prepared cake doughnuts and risen ones that were frosted and sprinkled with coconut, slivered almonds and candy. I served these with slices of orange for nutrition and home-made eggnog. We never worried about salmonella back then. I guess we were either lucky or blessed.

I also baked various cookies and arranged platters for some of our friends. One couple said it was the prettiest tray of cookies they had ever seen. Of course, their praise gave me incentive to widen my list and bake some more. I also loved to make mini poppy-seed cakes for gifts and family, and special breads like stollen, and muffin sized cherry cheese cakes.

We lived in Kansas City and had incorporated local menus into our holiday traditions.  Barbecued brisket was a favorite, along with the usual trimmings, cheesy potatoes, green beans cooked with ham bits and onions, fresh whole cranberry relish, crab dip and a shrimp cocktail that was made to be drunk in a cup. I cooked so much that in my “old age” I cannot even bear to read a recipe let alone cook one.

Now I’m apt to buy some or most of our traditional meals unless my husband decides to cook his favorite stuffing for a turkey. He does almost all of our cooking, anyway. Whenever I risk a foray into the kitchen my nerves start to frazzle and all the work I did in the past comes barreling back like a bad dream rather than a cause for rejoicing.

But the most important parts of our family traditions have stayed with me. After our Christmas Eve banquet, we’d gather together dressed in our robes and towels and read from the Bible re-creating a live Nativity Scene. 

I can still see the number of new babies in our household that played the part of baby Jesus over the years. A child would progress from baby Jesus to angel, and then to Shepherd. The older ones played Joseph and Mary.

When I listen to “Child of the Promise” it brings those images back, in a good way. There are times when I wish I could have my children all with me once again. I loved the hours spent rocking in their grandfather’s old chair. Drying tears, comforting sorrows, bandaging skinned knees and all the other motherly services performed of which I never grew weary. Each task was special in my heart. 

Imagine rocking the Christ Child?  I treasure the words to my favorite Carol “Mary did you know.”

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
That your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered
Will soon deliver you

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will calm a storm with His hand?
Did you know
That your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby
You've kissed the face of God

Mary, did you know?
The blind will see
The deaf will hear
And the dead will live again
The lame will leap
The dumb will speak
The praises of the Lamb

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know
That your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding
Is the Great I Am

Oh Mary did you know?

An old favorite by Kenny Rogers and Winona Judd

A more modern version with Pentatonix:  

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas – Is there any other Kind?

Getting ready for the holidays here in Florida means that we plant flowers. Yes, you got that right! We use Christmas lights at night, but during the day time, our yards send a message of color, fun, and festivity.

Wrapping our palm trees and oak trees in twinkle lights tells everyone “this home is ready to rock!”

Added color in the garden sends the message that we’re “decking the halls” and yards with what we do best: grow things. Freshly mulched beds are planted with pink or red impatiens, silver leafed foliage, red begonias’ and geraniums. Even the acacia and catalpa trees are in bloom to welcome the season. In case you’re wondering, mowing lawns year-round and pruning are the norm here.

Those who don’t go north for the holidays are preparing for winter guests. We want to look our best. Our “winter wonderland” is a walk on our white sandy beaches. Wreaths hang on every light post accented with a red ribbon. The streets are bedecked with green boughs and lights.

My husband and I are participating with our church in a “Live Nativity” that mirrors the town of Bethlehem and recreates the story of old. Costume clad volunteers make the telling come alive through improvisation, scripture, and interaction with the people that come to see the event each year.

The tour guide gives each family a bag of money to pay the tax collector at the gates of the city. In return, the children are given change back in the form of gold coins. Their eyes grow in wonder at the end of their journey when they discover they get to keep them.

A beggar also pleads for money in the streets, and some of the children proffer their gold coins to him as a gift.

An angel is seen floating in the air near the fields where “shepherds watch over their flocks by night.” A few campfires are seen as the shepherds warm themselves and cook their meager meals.

In the streets of Bethlehem a few shop keepers hawk their wares or sweep their porches.

The tour group is turned away by an innkeeper who tells them there is no room. They hear that a young couple was also turned away for the same reason. “The woman was riding on a donkey,” the innkeeper says, and points ahead: “they went that way. Perhaps you’ll find some place to stay down that street.”

A full-size stable, manager, and the Holy Family are the highlight of the evening. Mary sings a lullaby to her baby and then places him in the manger.

As the group continues down the street, they are approached by three wise men dressed in splendor that have come to visit “the King.” They ask where they might find the babe so they may give him their gifts.

At journey’s end the guests are invited to enjoy the live music (a band and carollers) performing inside where they will be given something to eat and drink after their long journey. Fellowship is what it’s all about. The sharing of love and the spirit of Christmas makes a lasting impression.

We have not only attended the Live Nativity, but participated in it each year. We never grow tired of seeing the Biblical story come to life. We look forward to hearing the beloved story retold and the carols sung illuminating the reason for the Season.

One of our late sunsets on Sanibel Island.  Below, some boats at the Sponge Docks in Clearwater on a cloudy day.

Brush drawing, "Mother and Child"

Every December our church and some generous volunteers, put on an unconventional nativity titled "A Walk through Bethlehem.". The characters are asked to read the Christmas story as found in Matthew, and a script suggesting possible action and dialogue, and then they improvise before a live audience. You never know what the characters will say on any given evening. You never know how the touring audience of 10-15 people per group will react.

A hunched over beggar stands outside Bethlehem's walls. He asks for mercy and pleads for shekels. This year an adorable guest asked her father for money and then skipped over to drop it in the beggar's bag. Another child attending for the third year had brought a gift for the baby Jesus. The child approached the stable, tiptoed up to the manger, and wished the baby Jesus "Happy birthday." He kissed the babe's head, and placed his gift beside the swaddling clothes.

My first year as a volunteer, I played an innkeeper. My job was simply to complain that Bethlehem was brimming with people who were there to pay taxes, and that I had no room for anyone, especially these new visitors. After all, I had just turned away a mother with child, riding on a donkey.

That first year, I thought the presentation was a bit "hokey." A little too informal for my taste. After all, I had been involved in a real pageant with a cast of hundreds, and professional actors and directors. Surely, this little play by a local church could have no impact or make no impression on the community. But I was oh so wrong.

This year I was a greeter; able to listen and observe the adults and children who walked through the grass, past the wooden props of sheep and donkeys, past the wooden scenery that I had helped to paint a few years earlier. I saw the wonderment in the eyes of the children. I heard adults express their gratitude at how much they looked forward to their "Walk through Bethlehem" each year, how it renewed them and prepared them to celebrate the birth of their Savior. And I felt the spirit that can only come in a simple stable, with simple people who in humility welcome the birth of God's Son.

Merry Christmas everyone -- and Happy Holidays!

"Mother and Child" is a monochromatic brush drawing using Burnt Umber Oil on a 12x16 panel. The painting is available for sale at $249 including postage; giclees, prints, or cards are available at:
http://carol-allen-anfinsen.fineartamerica.com