Glory, Hallelujah

Christmas in the Kooistra family always begins on Christmas Eve with the meeting of my mother's family at my parents' house. The sequence of events is as follows: appetizer buffet, gifts, dinner buffet, gifts, dessert buffet, stockings. It is a loooooong, goooooood time.







My grandmother made us girls (pictured here: my cousin Nicole, me, Marisa; plus Kara who was with her family) some hand-knitted bags that are extraordinarily crafted and that we will treasure.

We initiated Marisa into the role of Santa, which she handled with aplomb. She even organized a giving order which made our lives infinitely better, our night significantly shorter (in a good way) and for which we wondered how we have lived without her this long.

The Knyfd sisters were at it again--every year they sit next to each other, and every year there is at least one picture where they are sitting in exactly the same position with the exact same posture and look on their face. Though this one was caught mid-laugh and hence not 100% identical, I chose to include it because it was caught mid-laugh: There was much laughter among us, and much warmth of heart last evening.

(There was also much eating, and I am a bit shocked to find that I still fit into my clothes this morning)

This year was especially meaningful because it was the first without Grandpa, and it was made even more special because of the thoughtfulness of some of our family members.

My aunt found pictures that he had taken on his travels throughout the US, and framed them for the grandchildren. Though I had decided not to cry, and felt pretty confident that my full-fledged grieving was over, I burst into tears when I saw my cousin open hers first because I knew without explanation what it was. The man loved a good picturesque moment, and as my Grandmother reminded us--he would stand in one place for 10 minutes just waiting for it to occur. You could say he was stubborn or you could say he was patient. I say he was both, and that's why we loved him.

Keith took the scrapbook my grandfather had made of his WWII experience, scanned all of the pictures into his computer, and made us all photobooks with the captions Grandpa had included. The boy has a heart of pure thoughtfulness, and this is why we love him. (You can imagine the state of my tear ducts at that moment....)

Another special event this year is that my dad's parents are with us for Christmas for the first time since I was 4 (that is, a long time ago). We are about to engage in pre-dinner coffee and cookies, which will be followed by mid-afternoon dinner of lasagna (prepared by yours truly on Wednesday), followed by (I'm predicting) a long Christmas nap. Lovely.

As I heartily sang the Christmas carols in church this morning my heart was reminded:

Christ is King of kings. He is Lord of lords. No matter what your circumstances this Christmas, that hasn't changed and will always be the same. Glory--Hallelujah.