Overflow my Christmas Heart

My Christmas in NJ began at an evensong service in the darkened sanctuary of the church where I grew up, with my mother, with guitars, and with worship beautiful, simple, powerful.  I sang in awe and gratitude for the year that I have had, a year of God descending with blessing in His hand, revealing His own self, clearing out  the darkness: 

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,

And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth
Our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.


Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.


At His feet the six winged seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!

The only possible response to watching God descend: 

Silence, stillness, Alleluia.

Hence, the overflow of my Christmas heart began, and hence it continued as I spent the next day with my grandmother at her nursing home, eating the egg-on-a-NJ-bagel I'd picked up on my way over at her table with her lady friends, playing an impromptu concert of Christmas carols for the hard-to-deny-and-simply-adorable Willie, sitting with her in her cozy little room with reminders of my grandfather all around, chatting about all things family related... 

...like this Christmas cactus 

which--my grandmother informed me--belonged to her mother, was passed down to her, and eventually came to bloom on my mother's kitchen table, just in time for Christmas.

As I sat with her I thought what I usually think when I am with her, though with a Christmas spin:  An overflowing Christmas heart takes the time to listen for the secrets of a family, to make that family whole.

This particular whole family was gathering on the next day, for Christmas Eve celebrations of food and giftings, in our typically [and in no way secret] noisy can't-get-a-word-in-edge-wise way.   Since, however, this particular post is focusing on the silence of an overflowing heart, let's save the details of those gatherings for later, and skip ahead to the stillness of a midnight-hour candlelight service at the local town church. 

As Eve became Day, Dave & Kara, my parents, and I sang to the accompaniment of bells and an ancient organ, amid a crowd of people gathered to the do the same.  We came away, our Christmas hearts at peace.

We hopped into our car, to turn on the heat and to prolong our all-too-short time together, to be spontaneous and to go find some north jersey Christmas lights.  Due to the earliness of the hour, we didn't find much, but what we did find perhaps misunderstood the definition of 'overflow':

Our Christmas hearts were warmed, nonetheless, by our quiet chatting and sleepy laughter, by the gift of our presence.  By, as you may by now expect me to say: the overflow.

And so with ceaseless voice, 

the overflow of my Christmas heart continues to cry:
Alleluia, Lord Most High.

Christmas Type Fun

Once the Christmas balls start to roll there is no stopping the Christmas type fun, so--before I left town for NJ--Kelly Sara & I gifted each other with our presence, spending a merry eve together.

We started out at the Green Bowl, a stir-fry joint downtown, where you fill bowl after bowl with veggies and sauces and let the stir-fry wizards work their magic, delivering to your table a transformation of good into goodness.  We unloaded our minds and hearts as we wiped our somewhat messy chopsticked chins, and left fuller in every way as we rolled on to our next stop:

the local pottery painting establishment.

We painted,

we played,

we learned the pottery-making process,

we may or may not have gotten slightly frustrated...

Overall, we had a lovely, somewhat messy, time.

We closed out the shop, and then went home for a treat:

 hot chocolate in front of our lovely tree

and the phenomenon of Tim-Tam-Slam.

Having never heard of it before, Sara had to teach me the ropes, which are:

 bite off the ends.

Submerge one end in hot deliciousness.

 Drink as if with a straw.

 Slam the Tim-Tam into your mouth as it melts into nothingness.

 Be a hot mess.

Act guilty, yet delighted.

Do it again!

By the end of our evening

we were merry indeed, full of
Christmas type [if somewhat messy] fun!

Welcome to Christmas

Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas--even with a giant tree permeating my house with it's glorious fragrance--until I experience a Christmas gathering with those I love.

Things were officially kicked off this past Sunday, then, when Emily, Aden, Amy, Caleb and I congregated over tacos and good conversation.

There was much to talk about, what with the

growing baby bump and

sparkling engagement ring we've been blessed with recently.

But when the eating and the conversing
had been given sufficient time, 

we moved ourselves towards the main event

 --the giving of gifts--

 while the men and dogs looked on

and while Aden captured our gift-giving joy:

Don't ask us what was so hysterical,

just know that we enjoyed it...

With gratitude for all these gifts,

Welcome to Christmas!

Tree and Goodness

Speaking of celebration,

you might be aware that there is a little bit of one 

coming up soon in our calendar.

You might also be aware of 

a little tradition called a 'Christmas Tree'.

Sara, being the decoration coordinator 

and social chair of our home, 

decided that a Christmas Tree was necessary

 to make the season complete, 

and so shortly after December came upon us she and I

--along with friends Matt and Pat--

set out for a day among the Trees.

We gathered the necessary supplies,

arming ourselves for the task at hand.

We headed into the fields

and considered many options

before settling on this beauty, 

who just seemed to be calling our name.

Then,

we made the boys cut her down.

With Sara's help, of course.

(Mine too.)

Then,

we set off to find those boys their own tree.

We traveled for many miles, until:

Pat found it.

We didn't argue with him.

This guy waved him over however, 

and thus the decision was made.

When everyone was happy with the finding and cutting, 

we meandered breezily back from whence we came,

our cardboard soaring,

our feet sliding,

our saw (and other things...) flinging through the air

(as Matt debated whether or not to catch me before or after the saw left his hand...) 

(Let's pause for a moment of silence for my poor boots.

....

Funny, all I can hear is GALES of LAUGHTER....)

Eventually our mission was accomplished,

and the boys reflected on our good work.

And, as I've sat in its presence these past days, I've reflected too:

Good indeed, in every possible way.