Holiday Prep

Christmas is in the air.

We get to stay home this year!  I really like hosting for the holidays.  Family comes to spend the day, as do friends.  A couple years we’ve answered the door to discover that one of our guests brought along someone else who would have otherwise spent the day alone.  I love it!

Decorating and other preparations have begun.  My kids trimmed the tree last week.  The season includes a unique family custom, begun when my oldest were little.  Once the tree is up (usually the Sunday after Thanksgiving), my kids sleep on the floor near the tree and fall asleep gazing at lights and listening to Christmas music.

I’m looking at the various tasks I’ll need to do in the next few weeks.

There’s extra cleaning.  If I were to wait until Christmas week, I’d be exhausted and end up in bed.  Not good, so I’ve been scrubbing walls and window sills, vacuuming the curtains, double-checking for burnt-out lightbulbs (somehow we ignore those until the last one goes, and we’re left in the dark), cleaning the pantry, and various other tasks that could probably be left undone and nobody would ever notice.  I like to deep-cleaning now, so that I can relax knowing everything is spotless.  I just have to tidy-up when the big day arrives.  Pacing myself really helps.

For years I wasn’t able to do more than two or three errands before collapsing with fatigue.  In hindsight, that was probably my earliest warning of RA.  It’s hard to do a marathon shopping trip when you can’t drag yourself around the store.  I became a big fan of point-and-click shopping!

Sometimes one must visit a 3D-store, though, and I dealt with this by planning well in advance.  By spreading out the shopping trips (starting Christmas shopping in October), I was able to keep the trips short enough that I could rest well afterward.  This led to interesting situations a couple years.

My husband was working long hours, so I had to take the kids for all their shopping – including for my gift.  They were disappointed that I wouldn’t be surprised on Christmas morning, but we made the best of it.  Turns out I was surprised.  I was so tired all the time that my memory was affected (enough so that my husband commented on it, much to the frustration of both of us).  It seemed I couldn’t remember anything.  Including, Christmas morning, gifts that I had helped purchase.  I was genuinely surprised, which delighted the kids (and distressed my poor husband, wondering what was wrong with me).

Thankfully, the poor memory and bone-crushing fatigue are a thing of the past.  I still prefer to shop by point-and-click.  It’s great to have everything show up on my doorstep without having to make time to go out on the icy roads.

Not too much planning is required here, because I serve the same thing for every Christmas.  Well, usually.  A couple years ago our neighbor shot two geese and didn’t want them, so that year we also had Christmas goose added to our usual fare.  Anyhow, I try to do as much in advance as possible, and the meal planning was done years ago.

Munchies are prepared a few days in advance, and set out after breakfast so that people can snack before the meal is served:

  • vegetable tray
  • olives (#10 can from Costco)

Our menu is really two complete meals:

  • turkey
  • ham
  • green salad w/ dressing
  • green beans
  • cranberry sauce (two kinds)
  • mashed potatoes
  • turkey gravy and corn gravy
  • rolls
  • dessert

This makes a huge meal that seems like it should be a lot of work.  In reality, I’m able to relax and enjoy visiting with people because I try to delegate as much as possible, and do my portion of the work well in advance.  Pies, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and dinner rolls can all be made ahead.  With any luck, they’re not eaten in advance, too!  There’s a little bit of a scramble for thirty minutes before we sit down to eat, but everyone is in the kitchen working together, so it’s a fun time.

Keeping Track
There is now a list posted on my refrigerator.

Whenever someone calls to ask what they can bring, it’s easy to know what we still need.

This year we get to celebrate twice.  Most of the family is coming on Christmas day, but some people couldn’t make it then, so are coming on Sunday afternoon.  I’m looking forward to two Christmases this year.

Do you have any tips to make this time of year easier?


A Christmas Story

by Rian B. Anderson

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.

It was Christmas Eve 1921. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn’t been enough money to buy me the rifle that I’d wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.

After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn’t in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn’t get the Bible; instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn’t figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn’t worry about it long though; I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. “Come on, Matt,” he said. “Bundle up good, it’s cold out tonight.” I was really upset then. Not only wasn’t I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We’d already done all the chores, and I couldn’t think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one’s feet when he’d told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn’t know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn’t going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load.

Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn’t happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. “I think we’ll put on the high sideboards,” he said. “Here, help me.” The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.

After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood—the wood I’d spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing?  Finally I said something. “Pa,” I asked, “What are you doing?”

You been by the Widow Jensen’s lately?” he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure,I’d been by, but so what? “Yeah,” I said, “Why?” “I rode by just today,” Pa said. “Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They’re out of wood, Matt.”

That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.

When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. “What’s in the little sack?” I asked. “Shoes. They’re out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunnysacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without a little candy.”

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen’s pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn’t have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn’t have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn’t have been our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, and then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said,

“Who is it?” “Lucas Miles, Ma’am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?”

Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. “We brought you a few things, Ma’am,” Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it.

She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children—sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn’t come out.

“We brought a load of wood too, Ma’am,” Pa said.. He turned to me and said, “Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let’s get that fire up to size and heat this place up.” I wasn’t the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.

In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn’t speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I’d never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone’s spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn’t crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. “God bless you,” she said. “I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us.”

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I’d never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen’s face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn’t want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, “The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We’ll be by to get you about eleven. It’ll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn’t been little for quite i a spell.” I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and said, “Thank you, Brother Miles. I don’t have to say, “‘May the Lord bless you,’ I know for certain that He will.”

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn’t even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, “Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn’t have quite enough.

Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunnysacks and I knew what I had to do.

Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children . I hope you understand.”

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen’s face and the radiant smiles of her three children.

For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensen’s, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night; he had given me the best Christmas of my life.