St. Nicholas Days

For our family, preparing our home for Christmas begins in earnest on December 6th, St. Nicholas Day. Following our tradition, we baked some cookies for neighbors on the 5th. And for the first time, we made cut out gingerbread men. Russell (above) and Thomas taking decorating the cookies very seriously.

Elliot with his hot cocoa and miniature marshmallows more interested in devouring the icing. And yes, it is true, the Wonder Twins apparently have an issue with staying completely dressed throughout the day.

As I have mentioned before, Thomas, early on, declared that Lucia was his twin. But on this day, Russell decided to cast off Elliot and claim Lucia as his twin. Mrs. McGoodles playing one of her favorite games and Russell delighting in his little sister.

St. Nicholas Day morning. Finding the presents and gold coins left in the shoes. When I related that St. Nicholas had come, Russell looked out the window and questioned where his car was. That might have been my favorite moment of the day. Russell, especially loved the chocolate coins and we had to practically beg him to open his gift while realizing that he had five chocolates crushed in his hand. We also had a lovely evening with Zach and Tesi and family and Jake and Leslie (who are leaving next week for Ethiopia in order to meet their precious daughter who is only four months younger than LuLu bird) and family. In total there were 17 of us; 11 of which were children. Unfortunately, the pictures of the kids playing were blurry.

Thomas with his new Harry Potter Lego set.

Delivering the cookies.

Jared took Tuesday off and we went to our favorite Christmas tree farm, Mumma's, to purchase our tree. Russell and Elliot were out of the van for mere seconds before they stated, "we're freezing," and rejoined Lucia and me. Russell above.

And Elliot. I promise I bought matching hats and mittens on Saturday but Jared was in charge of getting the boys dressed and our communication skills are obviously lacking.

My men.

And finally on the 8th, Thomas and I decorated the tree. Thomas was very pleased to create a manger scene. Pretty sweet. And though you can't really see it, there are popcorn strings which Jared, Thomas, and I strung together hanging on the tree. Thomas has vowed to string more today.

Mary's Song

Ethiopian Theotokos

Mary's Song
by Luci Shaw

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest …
you who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.
His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world. Charmed by doves' voices,
the whisper of straw, he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught
that I might be free, blind in my womb
to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn. 

Poetry Wednesday

Russell's Namesday (Almost a Month Late)

The twins in a rare moment of wearing the same clothing. Russell and my traditional lenten chocolate namesday cake celebrating the life of his patron saint, St. Matthew the Evangelist.  Russell was very pleased about his special day and throughout the day, he reminded all of us that it was his and his day alone. Probably pretty significant for someone who is a twin.
May God grant you many years precious son!

Happiness

What Thomas drew after church last Sunday. Mary, Jesus, the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove (though strangely looking like a blue bird), and my personal favorite, the Cherubim/ Sun. And please, please do not miss the Cherubim's many eyes in the sun's rays. To me, this drawing is pure happiness.

And thank you to Elizabeth for introducing me to the poetry of Jane Kenyon.

Happiness

Jane Kenyon

There's just no accounting for happiness,

or the way it turns up like a prodigal

who comes back to the dust at your feet

having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?

You make a feast in honor of what

was lost, and take from its place the finest

garment, which you saved for an occasion

you could not imagine, and you weep night and day

to know that you were not abandoned,

that happiness saved its most extreme form

for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never

knew about, who flies a single-engine plane

onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes

into town, and inquires at every door

until he finds you asleep midafternoon

as you so often are during the unmerciful

hours of your despair.

It comes to the monk in his cell.

It comes to the woman sweeping the street

with a birch broom, to the child

whose mother has passed out from drink.

It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing

a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,

and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots

in the night.

It even comes to the boulder

in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,

to rain falling on the open sea,

to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.

Poetry Wednesday