Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Enjoying small boys

It's been a while since I put up a 'Gammy' post.  There are a few delightful (to me) things we've done in the last week that I thought would be fun to add here.

A couple of weeks ago Luke and Aaron and I enjoyed exploring the small pasture next to our place.  It was windy, as you can see by Aaron's hair in the picture below.

Luke found some grass that had gone to seed.  The seed head was soft and fluffy.  Unfortunately the wind was so strong that he had his eyes closed.


On another day the boys enjoyed the process of putting up the Christmas tree.



Luke had arranged the Nativity set along with some small bells we've collected, so the next day when Charlie came, he discovered the Nativity and the bells.





On yet another day Luke asked to take a squirt bottle outside.  He found a spot in the yard where there was plenty of fine dust.   We located some sticks for stirring and an hour flew by making mud.



At one point Chuck came out to see what he was doing.  Chuck asked if he was making mud pies and Luke said he was.  Chuck then asked if we would be eating them for lunch.  Luke gave him a scathing look and said, "They are mud!  You can't eat mud!"

While he worked on his mud, Aaron explored.  I got this picture of him standing on Chuck's mini tramp, wearing his new 'Angry Birds' hat.


Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Missing faces around the table

So many have lost loved ones this year, as has our family.  This isn't great writing but I wrote it years ago while watching another family face Christmas without their loved one.  It seems appropriate today as well.


How to celebrate your birth
       with empty places
               round the table,
missing eyes that once met mine.

Christmas is the family holiday.

Every song, treat, smell, candle
           reminds me…
All the things to be done,
           gifts to buy,
           decorations to put up
                     emphasize the loss…
                     the ragged hole
                     left by my loved one
                                   gone.

Why must I celebrate?

Because Christmas is for me.

You, Holy Father,
             must have felt the aching loneliness I feel
                                    when he left.
Yet You lit the skies with stars
              and music beyond any I can imagine.

Jesus, Holy Child,
              must have known my lostness
                         nakedness
                                   vulnerability
              when you exchanged your oneness with the Father
                          for a long distance relationship.

So I’ll light my candle with you,
              Holy Spirit,
                           here with me
               waiting for Christmas
                           celebrated in completeness
                                         with the Holy Trinity
                                         and
                                         my loved ones
                eternally surrounded
    by the music and the stars
                                         I missed out on so long ago.