Don't worry about the message in the video screen above, Readers. You can still watch my suggested video this week by clicking on the Watch on You Tube. It will take you right to the video. Blogger restricts some content that YouTube allows. No problem. The link will take you out, and you can always come back in.
If the song sounds familiar, I did post the same one last year, but a different video. It is one of my very favorite Christmas songs. Don't be fooled into thinking that the song is about winter snowflakes, despite what you see on the screen. Listen carefully and watch how cleverly scenes from Bethlehem unfold before your eyes. It is simply beautiful. This is a song about God sending his love to the earth: it came like a winter snow, quiet, soft, and slow, falling from the sky, in the night, to the earth below
Watch and listen and see if you get the same reaction I do; it gives me goosebumps.
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Yeah! You came back! Just like the winter in Erie, you have returned. Winter comes round every year, but the amount of snow it brings is unpredictable. I watched Miss Perky Weather Girl as I was sweating out the holiday stress on the treadmill earlier this week. She reported that Erieites are fourteen inches in snowfall BELOW last year. We had an early start to last winter and the snow seemed to last forever. Because there is always a balance in nature, this December I've found myself traveling to the mall to Christmas shop on dry roads. We had a bit to cover the ground last weekend, just enough to get everyone in the Christmas spirit. We had a warm up to a balmy 51 degrees this week, so the winter white quickly turned to a muddy brown. To remind you of what a winter snow looks like, especially to my friend Tracy Southern, here are some snapshots from last week's touch of winter white. This was the sunrise from my front porch.
The sun hitting the horse corral across the street.
I love how the glow came out on this one. I did not boost or enhance any of these shots.
This one is my favorite, which is why I made it big. Too bad I sent my cards out already. This would have been a good one.
These are grape vines, Slovenians. Actually, my college roommate from Pittsburgh on her first trip to Erie asked, "What's growing on those sticks? Cranberries?" Glad to inform you all she went on to become a science teacher.
I love holly. You can do something really cool with it that I do every year. Take one bowl with kind of a flat bottom and put another smaller bowl inside of it leaving a circular gap between the two. Fill the gap with boughs of holly clipped from your holly bush. Then fill the gap with water to the top. Set the bowls in the freezer for a couple of hours. Remove and you will have a ring of ice with holly and berries frozen inside. I put my holiday dips inside the ice ring. Humor me and try it. It's the only Martha Stewartish thing I do.
This is the AWESOME poinsettia plant I bought from the Harbor Creek girls basketball team for their fundraiser. I splurged on the big one because it was for the school. I also never bought a white one before, but thought I'd be adventurous this year. Wow, was I surprised! It is absolutely beautiful and I am looking forward to that gracing my home all winter long.
Those big petals remind me of snowflakes. Exactly one year ago today, snowflakes fell just like this--almost this size. They were as big as tea cup saucers. I remember the day well because I never saw a snowfall like that day. It was beautiful.
Sunday my family is scheduled for a sleigh ride in the middle of nowhere. I hope I can find the place again. Last year we rode on a sleigh pulled by a team of horses through the woods to Santa's workshop where we were served cookies and hot cocoa. The sleigh slid easily over all of that piled up snow. This year I don't know if it will have the same feel. I guess the place has a backup farm wagon in case there is no snow. I don't know if bumping through the rutted mud will have quite the same effect---plus Sam is a bit nervous this year about meeting Santa. He keeps asking me what really happens to kids who are on the Naughty List.
We had a windy night the other night and lo and behold, when I arose in the morning, look which of my deer fell over---the doe. She too, was probably exhausted, overworked, and under appreciated, so she just fell over dead. If I don't get a nap in this weekend, I just might do the same. My kids need me, so I am signing off now.
Don't let all of the work involved with this holiday ruin the anticipation of what's to come. Sometimes the waiting and wondering is the very best part.
Merry Christmas, Readers.
Eloise
I opened an unexpected gift today. It was in my inbox so it didn't need unwrapping, just a double click to unlock it, because how do you unwrap a song? Eloise is Tim McGraw's number one fan, and because I am a loyal voting member of his fan club, I was alerted to his free song Christmas All Over the World. Yes, it's really free and you can find it here, too. Give it a listen by clicking here: Christmas All Over the World by Handsome. You'll be sure to love it.
I was kinda' bummin' because I had been on a search of Tim McGraw Christmas songs and I came up dry. It seems as my Hero in the Black Hat hasn't produced a Christmas album. That comes as a surprise as he is a Christian and even has the world faith tattooed on his arm. (Oh crap! That's his wife's name. Darn it all. Way to ruin my vision). I did come across this pairing of Tim and Alicia Keys on the Oprah Show singing one of my favorites, Happy Christmas. It made me happy (because he was wearing his black hat) and sad (because I realized how much I miss Oprah). Yet I still felt that you may enjoy the duet, hence the above posting.
Tim's not just my hero because he's handsome. You have to look deeper than that and Eloise isn't that shallow. He's a steady singer, sweet and simple---never over the top--just consistently good. I saw him in concert this summer and he's a great performer and knows how to play a crowd. Tim's proven himself as a good actor, too and stars in one of my favorite movies, The Blind Side. He's a democrat and even has considered running for public office. But the most interesting part of Handsome is his backstory.
Tim McGraw was born to a single mom, a waitress who did her best to make a life for her musically talented and athletically inclined son. Mother was a proud woman and chose to have a go at raising Tim alone, and never told her son who his father was. As a boy, Tim came across his birth certificate while looking for something. Imagine his surprise to find that his father was none other than Tug McGraw, a relief pitcher for the New York Mets. According to a few Internet sources, Tug McGraw denied for years that Tim was his son. When the two met later when Tim was a teenager, Tug could no longer deny that Tim was his son due to the striking resemblance between them. A real chip off the old block that could not be denied. What you do think, Readers? See below:
This is Tug.
This is Tim (minus the hat).
I'd say the resemblance is quite uncanny.
I am happy to report that the two did make room for one another in their lives and that is a good thing because Tug took an early exit out of this life with brain tumor in 2004. Tim wrote this famous title track, Live Like You We're Dying about his father's death.
As a parent, you are always looking to see how your children are like you. It doesn't matter if your children are your genetic offspring or if they are adopted, fostered, or step. Anyone who spends time with a child during his formative years has an impact and traits or habits eventually show through and are passed onto another generation. Eloise herself is going through this as I am raising my three children. Sometimes I think that is really cool and other times I cringe.
Let's take for example my Natalie. Here she is with her iPod. It rarely is out of her hand. The kid listens to music constantly. Just as Ellen taught Natalie to scream McDONALDS!! every time we drove by the restaurant, I taught her this little number: Who's your favorite singer, Natalie? TIM McGRAW!!! she screams. Love it. A chip off the old block. That's pretty cool.
Then comes Ellen, so named for her mother and Grandmother--Eloise + Helen. With that kind of name she's bound to have some of my traits, right? Ellen resembles me the least out of my brood but is most like me in one area that stands out--her writing. This is a sample of one of her narrative writing pieces she did for school. The girl writes with ease and has been begging me for her own blog which she wants to title: Life Inside The Lamp Post: An Insider's View. (No lie, she came up with that title---and the answer is NO--an 11 year old doesn't need to be blogging, but I know paybacks are going to be hell for me someday). Her story is titled The Steel Dragon and is a real life account of her first roller coaster ride. For those of you who know me well, Eloise is a chicken and has some crazy fear of roller coasters. My daughter has seemed to have a similar disliking, right down to the upchucking in a garbage can after the fateful ride. Ellen's wit often emerges in her written words more so than in her spoken words. That is really cool, too. And speaking of wit and writing................................
...... onward to my son Sam. Recently we drew a line in the sand (well, on the kitchen linoleum) over a slice of peeled apple he refused to eat. He protested. He whined. He cried. He threated to move in next door with Grandma and Grandpa. (Did you hear that? That was the squealing of van tires--my parents are making the great escape). After two hours of empty verbal threats, Sam switched strategies. He decided that perhaps a formal, written approach would get him a little further. He made this sign. It is a drawing of an apple with a worm head sticking out of it (in the middle) with a big X through it. Underneath he has written his name backwards (to the left) and my name on the right, which is correct because even backwards my name works. I asked him what his sign said and Sam replied the following: "Mudders (still can't say that "th" sound) should not make their sons eat apples that taste like turds." My reply, "It takes one to know the taste." 2 hours and 24 minutes later he finally ate the #$& apple and complained because the flesh had turned brown. But I won. Yeah for me. Stubborn my boy is---you could say that. A chip off the old block? Well, I guess you could say that, too. Cringe!
Here is Sam during one of his better moments, lining up his Toy Story characters and taking pictures of them. A chip off the old block? I guess so.
He's also a funny little thing, just like Eloise. I love a good laugh. Sam has taken the liking to making up jokes. He picks up any book he finds and pretends he's reading us jokes out of it. Here is one of his recent ones: Why did the chicken cross the playground? To get to the other SLIDE! The joke isn't as funny as Sam cackling like a lunatic over the punch line. The best part is that he grabbed a book from my bedside table where I keep my nighttime reads. Didn't he grab Hell's Corner by David Baldacci?? Little Devils must be naturally attracted to the word Hell. He calls it his Jokety Joke Book. I guess the jokes on him.
At home, Sam is a laugh and a half. At school and in public he's a bit unpredictable to say the least. This is Sam's preschool class performing the Christmas play on Friday. Can you spot Sam? Look closely. Keep looking............................................. you are bound to see him...............................now where would my boy be....................................?
Oh now, lookey here!?!?! Who could that be peeking out from behind the stage curtain refusing to go on stage and sing. Hmmmm..........
It was none other than Precious Himself. The cutest little reindeer of the herd who opted to stand off stage the entire Christmas play. I would have busted him about it, but I kept seeing myself on that very stage when I was young and I remembered how much I hated it. Eloise was the shyest of shy kids and being in the spotlight put me in a panic. Who would have thunk it that one day I would grow up to be a teacher of all things?!?!?! Sam--again another sliver of ice chipped off this big, blond block.
To show you that he survived, Readers, here is his picture after the show. Sam came running to us and said, "Didn't I do great!?!?!" Yes you did Sam. You did your momma proud.
Here is one final picture of Sam from this weekend smudging up my freshly Windexed window as he usually does. As you can see from the scene we are literally chipping ice once again in Erie. Winter has set in with its first significant snowfall. Just an inch to cover the grass and make the sidewalks icy--but in December, who doesn't mind a little Christmas snow? It's exciting.
The first winter snow is about as exciting and unpredictable as raising kids---especially mine. I know some blizzards are coming, but they eventually will blow through. I wouldn't trade my three for anything in the world. They are the chips from my block and I am as proud of them as any mother could be.
I turned my calendar page to December, and now I can light up my tree without the fear of an elf drowning some innocent baby reindeer on the North Pole. The December calendar page is preprinted with several holiday celebrations bringing with it the great debate of over holiday greetings. How should Christians greet people during the month of December: with the traditional well wishing of "Merry Christmas" or the more politically correct version of "Happy Holidays"?
Eloise has been following the facebook and internet chatter surrounding this issue for a week or so now. As with any topic, we seem to be split right down the middle with the favor leaning toward whomever is reporting the generalization. It seems everyone from young to old and from all walks of life have thoughts on this issue. Intelligent responses to this dilemma are found on either side of the argument. I have read some excellent commentary and am somewhat amused as to how much thought and time are put into something as a simple Christmastime greeting. But what we give our time and thoughts is an illustration of what we hold dear. I am glad that our faith and how it is expressed is still so important to us. It the issue seems to boil down to the acts of either stepping out into a greeting of firm faith or wrapping ourselves in the blanket of respect for others and religious tolerance.
Eloise leans to the right on this one, the more traditional, conservative "Merry Christmas". The most obvious argument is that I am a Christian and its my holiday after all. Also, when else during the calendar year can you use the term "Merry?" "Merry Birthday!" Nope. "Merry Fourth of July!" Don't think so. "Merry Halloween!" God no. Merry just goes with Christmas. Speaking the word itself makes you feel the jingling of bells rolling off of your tongue. Merry goes with Christmas like peanut butter goes with jelly. They blend together to make a wonderful taste that cannot be replicated. We can celebrate other holidays, but Christmas has that special flavor of its own.
But with my encouragement of the use of Merry Christmas, I also ask you to use caution. Read the room, folks. Exercise some social awareness and use a little good judgment. I try to teach my students this all of the time. It begins with, " Read the room. When the teacher is talking, do not get up and sharpen your pencil. That is rude." There is a time and place for everything. Don't plant yourself outside a Mosque and greet all passersby with a hearty Merry Christmas! and get pissed off when they don't smile back. Remember what Eloise says, there is a time and place for everything. I do believe Ecclesiastes reads that, too.
Always keep in mind that the Pilgrims who crossed the sea to get here did so to seek religious freedoms. Yes, they were Christians. But the "freedom of religion" part applies to all and that is what makes our country so great. We must never tamper with our freedom to choose.
During her private life outside of school, Eloise pretty much keeps to herself. I make my living talking, teaching, telling stories, and writing. In my moments alone when I am shopping at a store for example, I am reluctant to strike up a conversation with a stranger standing next to me in line. It's not because I am grumpy or tired or antisocial---I'm just plain old tired of talking.
But December is different. There is a buzz in the air, especially in retail and grocery stores as Christians are bustling about making their holiday preparations. It's when we come in contact with people--waiting in line with shopping carts full of toys and food. Christians can usually spot one another. The heaping carts are a dead giveaway. Also the telltale dark circles under a woman's eyes are another clue that she may be preparing for Christmas. I'm easy to spot. When I shop, I shop big and my cart is over flowing. I usually dress in festive red and I always am wearing a cross around my neck. I am of German decent and man do my people love to party at Christmastime. I'm all for a party, so I always have a smile despite the long lines, the melted debit card, and the lack of sleep. It's safe to greet me with a "Merry Christmas" as I will surely shoot one back at ya'.
So I am urging you, like my students, to read the room. If someone is wearing clothing or jewelry in an obvious display of a different faith, hold back from a greeting and just a smile to your human brother will be enough. Once in recent history I missed. I shot a "Merry Christmas" to the gentleman behind me in line at K-Mart who also had a cartload of toys. His surly response to me was, "I'm an atheist." I was quite taken aback and the cashier and I glanced at one another in a moment of uncomfortable silence.
Eloise is quick witted, but fortunately I have a pretty tight screen between what I think and what I say. I thank God for that balance He gave me or else I wouldn't have a friend left in the world. My first thought was, "Wow--even atheists aren't afraid to take advantage of a good December toy sale." Instead I said nothing. As I pushed my shopping cart through the rutted December slush in the parking lot, I thought of numerous responses I could have said. Do you ever do that? Think of great things you should have said after the fact. I had ideas running the gamut from "You poor, lost soul" to a vision of me putting up my dukes and taking a swing at this very rude man. But in time, I let it go but I still think of it as a lost opportunity to capture another potential Christian by telling him what he's missing out on. People tell me I am a great storyteller, and I am sure by the end of a five minute conversation with the man he would have been a convert.
So this year you will be receiving a big fat Merry Christmas from me as shown on my video greeting card. It is a collection of the well wishers I poke the most fun at on this blog--my family, my sister, and my parents. I made the video with Ellen's flip camera and I do believe this contraption will revolutionize the way cards are sent. Plus it is so easy a baboon could do it. For those close family and friends who receive my annual card, I must issue this warning. I'm making my own list this year. It is a list of all of you card-receiving people's names---and believe me it's a long one. Here it is:
And if you're asking yourself, "What's with the fish?" let's just say it is one of those things that makes a house a home. Ellen caught a palomino trout and begged to have it mounted. It didn't seem like a bad idea at the time, until I got the bill for a fossilized fish and later realized I had to find somewhere to put it. Now it greets visitors in my entryway.
Eloise is taking a serious look at her holiday greeting cards this year. This is what we call at school "Data Collection." We have teams of people who analyze test scores, determine areas in need of skill development, and analyze data to determine if a project or program is worth the time and money. Eloise has too come to this crossroads in her life: Is sending the paper mail Christmas card worth it anymore? My friend Heather even blogged about it this week.
As a lover of words, books, and paper, I cannot imagine NOT sending holiday cards. They are as much as a trademark for me as is my tresses. Once, in a futile effort to try to look thinner, I chopped all of my hair off. I looked just like George Washington on the dollar bill. After I came to terms with what I had done over the weekend, I went to school on a Monday and was greeted by a First Grader. She stopped looked at me, and stuck out her bottom lip. I paused and bent down to eye level and asked her what the problem was. She reached out and touched my ear length hair and said, "I was remembering when you used to be pretty." Leave it to a kid to give you a reality check. I guess the sporty new cut didn't do a thing for me. One year when my father in law was sick I did not send out cards. So many people came to me and said, "I missed your card this year. I always look forward to yours arriving in the mail." Would ceasing of my holiday tradition make Eloise a little less "pretty" this holiday?
In time my hair grew back, and over time my Christmas card list has been growing and growing and GROWING! Apparently the people I meet every year always outweigh the ones who die or cut me out of their lives for some reason. The process is time consuming, but I have always enjoyed it. Yet, even though I send out more and more cards every year, I seem to receive less in return. Some have commented to me, "I just don't send cards anymore. It's not worth the time." Think about that. Taking some time to greet your family member, friend, and neighbor with a written version of Merry Christmas IS WORTH IT. The time it took that person to remember you, look up your address, and send it off with the jolly postman shows that YOU MATTER. I MATTER. So send me a card, and I won't be mad at you if it says Happy Holidays. To each, his own. It is a free country.
And to the grumpy, mustached atheist who was standing behind me in line, I hope this blog finds its way to your inbox. Remember me? I'm that dingy looking blond with the big smile that you deflated for a moment in time. God has a way of making things like this find you. Perhaps you've converted to Christianity and you'll end up sitting beside me at Church on Christmas Eve. I can't wait, because I want to have the chance to tell you something I should have a few years ago---"Merry Christmas, Mister." It's never too late to send that message.
Merry Christmas, Readers. Enjoy all the joys that December brings.
Eloise
Eloise has survived Thanksgiving and is looking forward to another day and a half off. You smart Slovenians are looking at the time of this posting, assuming Eloise has made an error, but I haven't. Eloise is a Pennsylvanian and we typically extend our Thanksgiving holidays through Monday due to deer season. Not reindeer, so don't panic. The Lamp Post isn't that far north. Deer as in white tailed deer, our state animal. It is legal to shoot them come Monday. The woods are full of hunters and malls and movie theaters are typically full of women and kids. Schools are closed, so the Monday after Thanksgiving has become just another Christmas prep day for Eloise. I think I am attacking the greeting cards tomorrow.
I can look back at Thanksgiving with no regrets. Everything was great: food, family, friends, and the weather here in northern Pennsylvania. It was unseasonably warm for Erie, which allowed old Eloise some long runs outside--her favorite thing. On Thanksgiving morning I was almost feeling some regret that I didn't run the annual Turkey Trot race out on the Peninsula. I am not a huge fan of organized races. I run because my girls like them and only register under the names of dead US Presidents. This year many urged me to come out and the weather was actually agreeable. But the thought of 4,000 people and Port a Potties was not appealing to me on Thanksgiving morning, so the loner that I am headed out on the local roads solo.
What do you do out there all that time? someone once asked me. I think, I plan, I reflect, I sing, I pray, and I flat out enjoy my time of solitude. I got to thinking about a very vivid dream I had--something that was going to happen in the year 2021. That gave me some hope because now that we are careening toward that fateful Mayan year of 2012, some of us are doubting whether we'll be here to see it. Then I got to kind of feeling regretful that I didn't register for the race under James Madison, 40 year old female. I got a peek at the shirt for this year and it was really cool---long sleeved purple tee with both front and back designs. I loved it and was wishing I had one to show off this weekend. I said to myself, Geez God, I should have run that race. I'm a lousy mom. I should have done it for the girls and we could have all worn our matching shirts this weekend. Forgive me for being a selfish person and give me the strength and patience to run that race next year.
CLUNK, TRIP, SKID, STOP. That was what I did not 20 seconds after I had my little breathless conversation with The Lord. I stepped on something and I had to back track to see what it was.
When I retraced my steps, I found that I had actually stepped upon a black t-shirt, crumpled up and wet, lying just outside of the community park entrance where the Legion Ball players have their games in the fall. Cool! I got me a t-shirt anyhow! Thanks, God. This is the shirt:
On the back it even had a 21---like the year 2021, so I took that as some sort of sign that we are all going to be still around, probably trying to find the next time the planets will align or resurrect another ancient culture who predicted the world's impending doom.
When I got home, I rinsed the t-shirt out in the sink, and noticed that the jersey also had a front. Cool--- a two sided shirt, just like the Turkey Trot one. Wow, God, you really are awesome. Thanks so much! The shirt looked quite big, but I thought with a couple of washings in hot water with liquid Lysol, it may shrink up a bit. I didn't recognize the logo on the front, but went down to the basement to toss the tee in the agitator, and decided to google the name. This is the front of the shirt:
OK now Readers. Let's test your read-between-the-lines comprehension skills. Modern Adult superstore. Both the male and female symbols inside the O. Hmmmm..now what could that be............................? So now Old Eloise is thoroughly confused. Sign or no sign? I guess we'll all just have to wait and see.
Sam found me upon my return up the basement steps from the t-shirt washing. I left for my long run well before he was awake and he hadn't seen me yet. The little guy has grown used to my long weekend runs, and he came running at me with a big smile and his arms outstretched to hug me. "Oh Mommy! I missed you! How far did you go today?" I told him that I went a long way and that he could ride along with me when we went out in the car to see how far it was. Yes, I hear ya'. I know about Map My Run.com but I think it is more rewarding for me to track my route in my car because sometimes I can't believe I went as far as I did. Riding the route in a car makes it seem like a bigger accomplishment.
Sam hugged me around my waist as his head is just even with my abdomen now. I patted his little head with his freshly buzzed holiday haircut. Sam leaned back and looked up at me with his big blue eyes and one dimpled cheek. He smiled and said, "Oh Mommy, I just love how the fat on your belly is so warm and squishy after you run. It makes me love you." And the little %$#@ turned and walked away. Ellen was frozen, mid bite of her breakfast cereal waiting to see what I'd do. After a long moment of breathless, frozen silence, I said to no one in particular, "Be glad it's Thanksgiving."
Funny, yes. But I read something even more comical on facebook about a week ago. It was a snarky comment about people who put up Christmas decorations too early, as in prior to Thanksgiving. This doesn't really bother old Eloise. Some people with extended families living far away have to celebrate their Christmases on Thanksgiving and who can do that without a lit Christmas tree. I get that, so this is no dig on my part. But this saying; it's just too funny not to share: Every time a Christmas tree is lit before Thanksgiving, somewhere on the North Pole an elf drowns a baby reindeer. A horrific thought for sure, but clever indeed.
Eloise won't flip her calendar page to December until Thursday, but I use Thanksgiving weekend for all of that Decembertime prep--you know, the decorating, shopping, wrapping, and list making. Notice "baking" is not on that list. I try to hold that off as long as possible because the longer the cookies are around, the longer I have to eat them. But I am a working mother, and time is of the essence. The more I can get done Thanksgiving weekend, the smoother the holiday goes for all of us.
The picture movie I put together is of my children decking the halls of the Lamp Post this weekend. Ellen did the tree, Natalie brought up the boxes from the basement, and Sam---well, he did the nativity set again this year. It's his favorite job. Sam is four years old and really into action figures. This year it is those little wrestling guys called Little Rumblers. It seems that Herod ain't gettin' through the manger this year. Jesus is safe again. Sam's got Triple H and The Undertaker standing guard. Take a look at the wise men he's stacked on top of one another. I asked Sam why the one Wise Man was standing on top of the other. Sam replied, "He couldn't see Jesus, so his friend helped him." How prophetic, Sam! Shouldn't we all give a leg up to help our friend see Jesus?
You'll get to see some of my favorite decorations from The Lamp Post. I don't expect House Beautiful to call me to do a cover shoot because of them, either. They are all sentimental, and Eloise is a sentimental soul. You'll find my favorite picture of Ellen at a little over a year old crawling around underneath the Christmas tree. That is on display every year along with the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, my card with the three angels (guess which one is Sam), and the ceramic tree that belonged to my mother in law. She's gone now, but plugging in that tree makes it seem like she's still here with us.
My favorite decoration actually made the grab for the cover shot of the movie--it's kind of hard to make out, but it is a chain of paper clips. I hook one to the tree every year in honor of a student in my very first class. The boy didn't come from a family who had extra resources--enough to get by, but certainly none extra to buy teachers Christmas gifts. On the last day before break this boy, whom I still see on occasion and now is in his later 20's, brought me a small box wrapped in aluminum foil, tied with a dirty, frayed shoelace. When I opened the box, I found a chain of 8 paper clips. I looked into his excited, skinny face, and the boy said to me, "They are for you! They're paper clips! I see that you used them all the time to hook our papers together. You can hang this on your tree for a decoration, like tinsel, and after Christmas you can use them for our papers." It takes a lot to make Eloise cry, but this time I couldn't stop the tears. It was one of the sweetest, most heartfelt gifts I'd ever received. I hang a chain of paper clips on my tree every year to remind myself that thoughtfulness is what it takes to make a gift priceless.
They say what you write reveals what is underneath. If that is true Eloise has no secrets because you sure have read enough of my work. Pay close attention to the letters to Santa my kids wrote this year. Natalie, my girl of few words, speaks volumes.
Sam's was dictated, but he insisted in writing his name. You can see he's a lefty because he writes everything backwards. His requests say it all.
And then there is sweet Ellen's; my child who carries the weight of the world. As a fifth grader she was not keen on writing a letter this year. Too bad, I said, It's tradition. Look closely at what her requests were. Again--writing really does speak volumes about a person.
Enjoy the movie. The song is Deck the Halls by Jim Brickman. It's really pretty---just like my newly decorated house.
Just so you know, I have no control over which picture Windows Live Movie Maker grabs for the cover shot. It seems to be a random slide, until now..............look who made the cover today! This picture hangs on the wall of "The Camp." It is the coolest painting I've ever seen because no matter where you stand in relation to the picture, Jesus's eyes follow you. I've heard stories of deer camp, but I really do think this very picture is what has kept the place standing since 1934. Amen.
Today is a day to give thanks and count ones blessings. The song Blessings by Laura Story is the perfect song for this year as it seem there has been lots of bad news coming Eloise's way. Unexpected deaths, illness, and my favorite coach's fall from glory are but to name a few. Add to all of this the two books I read this fall are The Help and Sarah's Key. Both tough, emotional reads but ones I feel glad to have spent time with and emerged from the back end of the book a better person. Even my lesson topic last week, the story of Squanto, shook me up a little bit. If you are a reader and lover or stories as blog readers should be, a good story can make an impact.
What did Eloise learn from all this gobbledygook this fall? Was there a common thread? Was there something that God wanted me to learn from all of these stories that He brought to my attention? I do believe there was. In all of my stories, from The Help, Sarah's Key, and Squanto, to the Penn State scandal, someone turned a blind eye to something. Slovenians, the phrase turning a blind eye does not mean someone just poked you in one, it means that you know something wrong is going on and you pretend that you don't see it. Not good.
Were there good people in Jackson, Mississippi in 1962 who thought something was wrong with "separate but equal?" How about the Parisians? Didn't someone think sewing a yellow star to the sweater of your neighbor then loading him on a cattle car for a quick trip through the countryside was a bit strange? And even in the 1600's, wasn't there a Spaniard standing in the market of Magalia that thought walking by the "Buy a Savage from the Americas" section was wrong? Slovenians, as you can see injustice is worldwide and you have certainly suffered your fair share, too. But have we learned in time? Apparently not because there are people at a prestigious institution who looked the other way when a coach showered with ten year olds.
Can it ever stop? When will it end? Here are Eloise's answers to the questions you just raised: Yes it can. Today. And it starts with you. Well, you and the guy on the cover shot, that is. Invite Him into your life. Read His book. It's life changing. After you spend some time with it, you'll know when to turn the other cheek and when it is time to flip the tables over in the market.
Don't turn a blind eye to things, Dear Readers. That would mean that you are only seeing life with one eye and you would miss so much good, so much beauty. To remind you of all things bright and beautiful this holiday, I put together some of my favorite nature shots from this fall. You'll see the way the leaves hold colors tight---especially my favorite tree, the Weeping Willow. She's holds on to her leaves the longest. All the other trees in my yard are bald, except for her. We can learn a lot from the Weeping Willow. She is big and strong, but her branches are flexible. Instead of her limbs snapping in a strong wind, her branches billow and I enjoy her dance outside of my window during the worst of storms. Her roots run deep, and where you plant her; she's there to stay. I am so glad she's the first tree I spy out of the Lamp Post window when I write my blogs. She reminds me of how I want to be; strong, flexible, and hold on to my color for a long, long time.
Enjoy the photos. The ones of my girls are from when they were in preschool and returned home wearing their feast hats. Natalie was an Indian almost a decade ago now. Ellen chose to be a pilgrim during her time. On Monday, Sam came home with a Miles Standish hat, but the way carts that blanket everywhere with him, I've nicknamed him Linus Standish this holiday.
I hope your turkeys turn out and the pies are baked to perfection. Doze on the couch while you watch some football, and wake up to play a board game with your family while eating your second slice of pie. It's OK. It's allowed today. But most of all, look around you with BOTH eyes and count your blessings. There are many to see and you won't want to miss a single one.
Thanksgiving is just two days away. I've been watching people's posts on facebook stating what they are thankful for each day in November. They've made for enjoyable reading and have been very thought provoking for me. What is it this holiday that Eloise finds herself thankful for? The usuals are on there: my family, my friends, and my freedoms are always the list toppers. Something unique to this year though, is the progress and healing of my son Sam. Sam--my surprise child, the spunkiest of my bunch, my wild Indian.
Sam has made enormous strides in the last two months. He is sleeping better, has gained four pounds, and his mischievous smile is back. For this, I give enormous thanks to my God. Amen. You'll see him on the video during some of his finer (and dirtier) moments. He absolutely loves football. Sam will play pick up ball with any kids he sees. We attended our last high school game of the season last weekend, and Sam found a group of kids tossing the football. "Hey, can I play?" he yelled to them. They ignored him. "Hey! You kid! Can I play, too?" he shouted a little louder. Ellen turned to me and said with an eyebrow raised, "This could get interesting." And that it did. The kids who were sixth graders gave him a momentary glimpse of attention and went about their play. Sam is no glory boy. He's a workhorse. Sam is destined to be a lineman. He has no interest in catching the football whatsoever. He only wants to tackle people. Sam chased those kids around that open field for nearly a half an hour. A time or two a nice kid handed Sam the ball and let him run around with it, but he wasn't interested in that. He wanted to chase someone down. You will see a few shots of him trying to take down a sixth grader. Sam grabbed the kid around the waist and wouldn't let go. The kid (who had a very good humor about him) said, "Holy crap! This kid is strong!" You will see a snapshot of Sam flexing after he finally brought the kid to his knees.
The picture movie is set to my LEAST FAVORITE Tim McGraw song, however. Truly, Indian Outlaw never did it for me. It's an oldie and I had to look up the video on youtube because I couldn't remember it. Now I know why. I must have mentally blocked it out. When I found the video on youtube, I almost fell off of the kitchen stool I was sitting on. Was this REALLY Tim McGraw in 1994? Good Lord! My perfect specimen had this stringy hair and this cheesy mustache? No wonder I passed him up and let Faith have him. Some men do get better with age though, and Tim is one of them. Look at him now at the premier of his recent movie Country Strong. Much, much better. Tim even looks good without his black hat.
There is one Indian that I do have to give five minutes to on this blog. It's this one: Squanto. Now Sis, just to make this clear--this really isn't a photograph of Squanto. They didn't have cameras in 1620. This guy is an actor. Just didn't want you to say something silly over the gourmet Thanksgiving feast you are preparing for all of us. Got your back, while you are breaking yours making pies for me. How is that pecan one coming?
If it wasn't for Squanto, I doubt we'd be eating Thanksgiving dinner. Yes, I know that Massasoit and Samoset helped, too, but Squanto did the most in my opinion. And oh the back story that man has! The elementary history books always give mention to the fact that he was the last remaining member of his Patuxet tribe and helped the pilgrims plant corn and stuff (as paraphrased to me by a third grader). But it is Squanto's full circle story, from his boyhood voyage to England on an English trading vessel to his return trip home with Captain John Smith then being captured within a days walk from home by Captain Thomas Hunt. Squanto and many others of his tribe were sold by Captain Hunt as a slaves in Spain. If it weren't for Brother Diego and Brother Luis taking pity upon Squanto as he threw himself at their feet begging for mercy, you may not be passing the cranberry sauce on Thursday. The story is so amazing I suggest you research it for yourself. If you are one of my students, prepare to learn about this in much greater detail next fall. I got the rest of this year planned out already and it is on to the Vikings after break, but we'll catch Squanto again. I promise.
This Thanksgiving I will be thankful for my two favorite Indians, Sam and Squanto, among many, many other things. Bless us, O Lord for these thy gifts................
Just a quick post tonight because I got a few more coming this week. I needed something to counter all this disturbing news we've been exposed to in the last couple of weeks. Pennsylvanians have taken one square to the chops and we are a hurtin'. With all of this disturbing news coming from heart of my great state, it almost makes one want to lose faith in humanity. Yes, ugly lurks everywhere in this world, but I do believe beauty tips the scales to our favor. There are just as many good people in this world and in the end, the good guys always win.
Thanksgiving is no time for disgust, however. It is the weekend before the great feast and we are all making room for family, friends, and neighbors round our tables five days from now. We've got happy preparations to take care of. We've got birds to cook, pies to bake, and people to feed. Beautiful people. Nourish them this year with good food, great conversation, and shared prayers of thanks.
This year Eloise is thankful for the beautiful people who surround me. Some of them are on this picture movie, moving along to the tune carried by the voice of one beautiful man. Thanks Tim McGraw for the song. I supplied the faces. See, together we would have made a great team. You win some, you lose some, I guess. But this year I really did win because I'll be spending my holiday with most of the people on the movie--the most beautiful people in my world.
This was the sunrise from my front porch.
Good Lord! My perfect specimen had this stringy hair and this cheesy mustache? No wonder I passed him up and let Faith have him. Some men do get better with age though, and Tim is one of them. Look at him now at the premier of his recent movie Country Strong. Much, much better. Tim even looks good without his black hat. 
Squanto. Now Sis, just to make this clear--this really isn't a photograph of Squanto. They didn't have cameras in 1620. This guy is an actor. Just didn't want you to say something silly over the gourmet Thanksgiving feast you are preparing for all of us. Got your back, while you are breaking yours making pies for me. How is that pecan one coming?