Silent Night

Every December, I lay long-stem red roses on my mother's grave. The red and green give it a look of Christmas decorations against the snow.

Silent Night, Holy Night

I wait until night, when the moon is out, and it's silent and peaceful.

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child

I always give her four red roses, one for each of her four children.

Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

I love you, Mama

Mary Did You Know?

Mary, did you know?
That your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know?
That your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you?

Several people have recorded this song. One of the more common ones you hear on the radio at Christmas time is the one recorded by Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd. One of the better versions I've heard is the one Kathy Mattea does. Besides this being a beautiful song on its own merit, I think it touches the heart of every single parent when they look at the face of their child and are filled with the wonder and hope and promise of who this child could become.

Did you know that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?

Every baby, every life, is a gift from God. And when you see a baby, you see all the good, the innocence, the pureness, that is life. And that's why babies hold such promise. I believe all parents want certain things for their children...they want them to be healthy, to be safe, to have a decent life. Some parents, unfortunately, try to live their unfulfilled lives through their children, or place too much direction in front of their children. That is one extreme.

The other extreme is the abusive or neglectful parent. The adult who harms the child, or neglects the child to the point the young one never really has a childhood. There are so many wayward and awful paths this could go, it's impossible to list them all.

But in the middle, is the parent who accepts the gift of a child with all the awe and delight and enormity of promise that a child really is. There is the parent who, looks down on that soft round face of a baby and knows they really are looking at the face of God. And they know God has entrusted them with a child just like he trusted Mary with his child. And being human and struggling with our own faults, we are going to try to help this child be their best...Play fair, learn the golden rule, go to school, get good grades, get a job, become something. And we have no idea how to do that and no idea what God wants this child to become.

I work with parents all the time to accept their child for who he or she is. Look at their personality traits (no matter what they are) as positives, and then consider how they can channel those traits constructively. If your child is demanding, help them turn that into assertive. If your child is bossy, help them turn that into leadership qualities. If your child talks a lot, give them appropriate outlets for doing so.

From an early age, we realized my oldest daughter loved to read. She also has an excellent memory which makes her an excellent at languages, editing, spelling, and such related things. She kind of hopped around with her interests in college and we kept encouraging her to pursue what she was interested in, not necessarily what she thought would get her an immediate job right after graduation. She's not really happy with her factory job right now, but she got a well-rounded degree in an area she really liked studying. She's thinking of grad school. We still don't know where she'll end up. Neither does she. Her path is far from over.

My middle daughter got a dual degree, one of them being in engineering. She's in the midst of interviews. Something will pan out for her soon. She's also considered med school. She's smart and talented. Once she's in the work force, I'm certain more opportunities will come her way.

My youngest is all over the map. She is bursting with life and ideas and possibilities. They all seem to center around criminal justice in some way whether it's the FBI or law or some other related field. I think she will probably try on several jobs in her life time.

For all of them, the possibilities are exciting, and I'm glad we've given them the message they can pursue whatever direction they choose. I cannot imagine deciding for them. And I cannot imagine the enormity of what Mary knew about her child.

Mary, did you know?
That your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know?
That your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.

Adeste Fideles

Adeste fideles, Laeti triumphantes; Venite, venite in Bethlehem; Natum videte, Regem Angelorum

O Come All Ye Faithful. Faith. People don't ask me about my Faith very often. I know one or two people who get pretty preachy about their faith and it annoys the heck out of me. It's a pious sort of attitude that really bugs me. I'm sure they really do believe in their faith, but there is something about the way they go about things that almost seems as if it's for show. I don't like that. I have another few friends who simply live their faith, and I have deep respect for them. Sometimes it comes up in conversation; often it does not. They might mention something they did at church but it's no different than something they did at the store, or at work. They might quote scripture, but it's no different than mentioning something they read in any other book or heard on the news. It's simply part of their day-to-day and who they are.

I do believe there is a God, a Supreme Being, a Diety. I believe that Diety crosses many boundaries and no one religion can lay claim to being right, or the one true religion. In fact, much of the fighting that has taken place over history and over religion is not about IF there is a god, but HOW people ought to be worshiping. Far more has been done to label people heretics and heathens and sinners in the name of whatever religion than to create kindness and inclusion. And for that reason, I don't believe in organized religion. I believe that Faith is a covenant between the individual believer and their God and there that's where it should begin and end. There doesn't need to be an organized church in the middle. If the Bible, or Koran, or any other inspirational writing helps you find that covenant and lead a life of service, then you have found Faith. If you have shown Grace to others, you have found Faith. If you strive daily to make the world a better place, you have found Faith. If you trust that a Deity will guide you and give you strength through dark moments, you have Faith.

Do I pray? Rarely, and then only to ask for understanding. I believe that if you have Faith, you also trust that God has a plan. And who are we to question it? Who are we to think that our insignificant supplications will change what is meant to be? Instead, I believe in trusting in God (having Faith) and seeking understanding. How do we seek understanding? By learning, listening, watching, and accepting that what does not make sense to us now, will at some point down the road. And in the mean time we need to do our best, do the right thing, try to make the world a better place by giving others Grace, and having Faith.

I grew up hearing this hymn in Latin. It's one of the few I remember in Latin. There is something ancient and beautiful about it ...

Venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus Dominum!

The Friendly Beasts

Jesus our brother, kind and good
Was humbly born in a stable rude
And the friendly beasts around Him stood
Jesus our brother, kind and good.
--Garth Brooks

My grandmother had an electric organ in her living room. With a flip of a switch, you could add a samba beat, a waltz beat, an oboe sound, or any other variety of instruments. I don't ever remember seeing her play it. But it was always there for us to fiddle around with. She had simple music, and those of us who could read music would plunk our way through various songs and come December, an assortment of Christmas carols. I loved this song. Each animal tells the others what he gave to the Christ child. I think it's the bit of Doctor Doolittle in all of us that believes deep down animals really can speak.

"I," said the dove from the rafters high,
"Cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry;
We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I."
"I," said the dove from the rafters high.

At Christmas, we alternated which grandmother would spend the holiday with us each year. Every Christmas Eve my aunt and uncle had a huge open house. It was mostly relatives, with a few friends and neighbors thrown in. Over the course of the evening, there were probably 40 or 50 people that came and went. Once in a while, a family friend dressed as Santa would show up. We'd get all dressed up,and go over there for a dinner of snacks and drinks. Grownups sat around the living room, dining room, or den, or were bustling around the kitchen. Kids hung out in the downstairs and would drift in and out of the upstairs rooms for food and adult attention.

Then we'd leave for midnight Mass. I think my parents didn't particularly like staying up late enough for midnight Mass but once we got old enough to lobby for it, we did. We preferred that to having to stop the Christmas morning festivities to go to church. So we'd leave my aunt and uncle's, head to church, and get home sometime around 1am. One grandma or the other would be with us, and would get my brother's bedroom for the night, down on the first floor with my parents. He'd join us girls upstairs, usually camping out in a sleeping bag.

The rule was, we couldn't come downstairs in the morning until Santa (or my parents) rang a bell. So here we were, coming home from church at 1am. Too excited to fall asleep and up talking and giggling until 2am or later. And then someone would invariably wake up around 5am, too excited to go back to sleep and wake the others up. And now what to do? We wanted our parents to wake up so we could get up. My dad could sleep through Armageddon. My mother was deaf. We were upstairs. They were downstairs. And we tried all sorts of things to wake them up. I remember one year my sister put her trumpet to the floor at 6am and started playing Christmas carols. In hindsight, I feel sorry for my grandmothers.

We'd finally be allowed to get up and see what Santa had left in our stockings. Then breakfast. Somewhere along the line, my mother tried a recipe she found in the paper that became known as the Christmas Morning Hotdish that we had every year after that. I make the same Christmas breakfast for my girls that I grew up with...grapefruit, bacon, veal kidneys, hotdish. Then we'd open our presents. Usually way too quickly for my mother's liking. Then time to run our grandma home. If it was Grandma Helen, she went back to her house to get started on the dinner. Our other grandma went to back to my aunt's for the rest of the day. But we always went to Grandma Helen's for dinner, and so did my cousins. All of us were crowded into her little house--very fond memories for me.

Thus every beast by some good spell
In the stable dark was glad to tell
Of the gift he gave Emmanuel,
The gift he gave Emmanuel.

Tonight I had a wonderfully full house. All three of my girls were here. All of their boyfriends were here. My brother stopped in for a while. The girls spent the evening making gingerbread houses. Their boyfriends helped here and there. There was a lot of good food, Christmas music playing, and a lot of laughter. These are my most favorite evenings. I loved watching them have this time with each other. I love that they get along with each other and enjoy spending time together, doing simple things like this. I am happy that they family is a good place for them to be, like it was for me. These are the gifts we give each other.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

I went through a list of Christmas carols to pick out my 10 favorite. It was hard narrowing it down. This one made the list because of my daughters. And the Muppets.

When my brother was in Kindergarten, he came home from school with information from his teacher about an educational program on public television called "Sesame Street". That was my family's introduction to Kermit, Oscar, Cookie Monster, Big Bird, and Bert and Ernie. When my girls were born, I fell in love with the show all over again and began to appreciate the adult humor that the writers snuck into the show. Singing songs like Bruce Springsteen's "Baby we were born to add" was one of my favorites. And I loved all the guest stars on the show.

One of the stories we tell a lot in this family, and one of my worst parenting moments, stems from Sesame Street. My oldest daughter, when she was two, was convinced that Oscar the Grouch lived in every garbage can she saw. If we were on walks, and I didn't keep close hold of her hand, she'd dart into people's yards when she saw a garbage can, grab the lid off it, and look to see if she could find Oscar. I'd have to drag her away. It alternated between embarrassing and annoying.

One day, shortly after my second daughter was born, we had a particularly difficult day a local store because the baby was being colicky (screaming) and my oldest was convinced that her imaginary pet mouse was lost in the store. She, too, started crying. Here I was, trying to manage the shopping bags and two crying children. I tried to convince my two year old the imaginary mouse was in the shopping bag. No dice. She just screamed louder. In exasperation, I just packed them both up in the car and headed home. But NO! In our garage, there sat the garbage can! My two year old refused to go in the house, screaming, "Oscar, Oscar, Oscar! I want Oscar!". Keep in mind I was about two weeks post-partum here, and I just snapped. I opened the lid of the trash can and with whatever was in my hand, I went, "Bam, bam, bam! There! Oscar's dead! Now come in the house."

I do not expect you to understand that if you haven't just given birth. And gone to the store with the baby. Who is colicky. And a two year old. Who has an imaginary mouse. That is lost. And needs to find Oscar. It was absurd. My husband was appalled. And I still get grief about that day some 20 years later.

But we all still love the Muppets. We had a Christmas CD of songs John Denver recorded with the Muppets...for his children and for all children. And the song The Twelve Days of Christmas on that CD is absolutely delightful. When the Muppets get to "five golden rings" they sing "bum bum bum" and with each verse they get louder and more enthusiastic. It so completely captures the spirit of joy of children and Muppets and I love it.

The day after Jim Henson died, there was an editorial cartoon in the paper of Kermit the Frog sitting alone on the curb under a street lamp. The sign on the corner read "Sesame Street". Kermit had his head in his hands and he was crying. I still have that cartoon. Jim Henson touched the lives of hundreds of thousands of children and adults. The gift he gave us with his Muppets is far greater than any golden ring.

Here Comes The Sun

Little darling, it's been a long, long cold lonely winter.
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say...it's all right.
-The Beatles

This is the happiest song I know. The melody is happy, the words are happy. It makes me happy to listen to it and I cannot help but sing along with it when I hear it. It seems like an odd song to post on the last day of November. This is the time of year when the days are so short that I drive to work in the dark in the morning and drive home in the dark in the afternoon -- we live that far north. You would think this is a song for the spring time. But it came on the radio as I was driving to work this morning and I couldn't help smile...and sing along. Me. Me who is not a morning person.

I used to get really tired of our long winters. Almost everyone here does. Winter can start any time in October or November and usually goes all the way into March. Snow is usually on the ground into the beginning of April unless we have an unusually warm spring. So people who are young and/or active do things like ice skate, or ski, or snowshoe, or whatever else gets them outdoors. You have to or you'd go crazy being cooped up that long. People still walk their dogs, run errands, and all sorts of other things. Until it gets to be 20 below. Until the wind chill drops to dangerous levels. But it's the short days where daylight is at a minimum that gets to be hard to take. And so we take our sunshine when we can get it. What people don't realize if they don't live in a cold climate is that the cloudy days are the warm days. The clouds form a layer of insulation that keeps the heat in. When it clears up, that's when the heat escapes to the upper atmosphere and temperatures drop.

What turned winter around for me was the Solstice. Calendars and weathermen had always noted the first day of winter, but I hadn't really looked at it in terms of being the Solstice. The turning point. The time of year when we celebrate the triumph of lightness over darkness. When we reach that turning point and we know that even though it is dark, and it is cold, and there are still weeks and weeks of winter left....every single day from there on out is a day of more light. And that is a wonderful, happy thing! It makes winter no big deal any more.

Which means that attitude -- perception -- is everything. It's hard to remind yourself of that when life feels crummy. When you're angry at someone. When you're looking at darkness at all the time.

You have to remind yourself there are pockets of light and find a way to look at it differently.

Feed Jake

Now Broadway’s like a sewer. Bums and hookers everywhere.
Winos passed out on the sidewalk. Doesn’t anybody care?
Some say he’s worthless, just let him be.
I for one would have to disagree.
And so would their mamas.
-Pirates of the Mississippi

Today we drove to my oldest daughter's for Thanksgiving. A gorgeous, two and a half hour drive, most of which was along the river. Our Baby Girl came with us, and later in the day we were joined by my brother and his family, and my sister and her partner. It was a cozy day, with good food, and truly a lot to be thankful for. We all have jobs, we have good homes, things for the most part are running on an even keel for everyone. Life is good. And yet we know it isn't that way for everyone. And so what do we do about it?

My uncle used to ask his kids, every night at the dinner table, "What did you do today, to make the world a better place?" I never knew that until he died and every one of his kids talked about it at his funeral. But it made me realize how much my siblings and I were ingrained with a mentality about the importance of helping others, of becoming involved. And how have we done that?

So many people in my family have gone into helping professions, particularly teaching. In fact, in my uncle's family, he and my aunt were both teachers, as were three of their four children. My father was active in his church in so many ways and my mother was involved in community ed. I volunteered my time to La Leche League for 10 years and later to the Girl Scouts. My sister is part of the Big Sisters program. My brother has coached his kids sports teams. My youngest sister has been involved in various social activism groups. All of us have also donated financially to organizations that matter to us...The American Cancer Society, CARE, America's Child, Toys for Tots, The American Lung Association, La Leche League, Salvation Army, Vietnam Vets, and so many more.

Now I am watching my daughter become involved in organizations that help others and I'm glad to see that. It's important to give back what you can. To make the world a better place. Someone at work saw all the NFL memorabilia I had on the back of my office door and asked if I was a season ticket holder. I told her no. She wanted to know why not, especially since she knows I talk about football all the time with her son. I told her that as much as I love football, if I had that kind of money to spend on a regular basis, I would rather put it towards a charitable need. She didn't quite know what to say. But I believe that once you have a comfortable existence, the rest is just being selfish. And you should be trying to make the world a better place. You should care. If there were more people who cared, we'd have less people on the streets.

Feed Jake is an odd song, but it's sweet. You don't hear it very often on the radio any more.

Now if you get an ear pierced, some will call you gay.
But if you drive a pick-up, they'll say, "No you must be straight."
What we are, and what we ain't, what we can and what we can't.
Does it really matter?

Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, feed Jake.
He's been a good dog, my best friend, right through it all.
If I die before I wake, feed Jake.