Happy Birthday Jesus!

I Wish You a Merry Christmas

There's nothing like being a "people watcher" . . . especially during the holidays. It's fascinating-a little disheartening at times, but also uplifting when you are blessed to see some cool stuff happening during this time of the year. (See my previous post for an example of that cool stuff!) Unfortunately however, this season can bring out the best AND the worst in people. As I have spent the last Christmas and this current one working a second job in retail, I can tell you for certain that there are some people who desperately need to have a Merry Christmas. Below is my wish for one particular customer. With all my heart, I hope he has the best Christmas ever.

Dear Sir,

I wish I had been able to complete your transaction from start to finish yesterday. I really enjoyed talking with your young son as he was handing me items he had chosen to give his mom for Christmas. Your son looked to be about the same age as my oldest daughter. I wondered if maybe they were in the same grade. He seemed so pleased with the job he had done picking out those things for his mom. It appeared that he was paying with his own money, as he had a fistful of bills wadded up in his hand. I really wanted him to be able to get the most for his money and of course, we both know what happened next.

When I tried to point out a better deal on one of those items on sale, I truly didn't realize that the item he had already chosen was also on sale. I do apologize for the error. I am human. Humans make mistakes.

While I am hurt that you chose to begin yelling and screaming at me, causing an entire store to grow silent and uncomfortable, I can only imagine that you are perhaps under some stress yourself these days. You are not alone. Trust me.

What was most concerning to me was the look on your young son's face during your tirade, as I attempted to offer my apologies. I wondered if this was a typical display of behavior for you. For his sake, I hope not. I hope that he wakes up on Christmas morning looking forward to time with his parents and not wondering what he might be facing when he greets you after waking up.

I apologize for turning my back on your son, and for asking my manager to finish up the transaction for me. You see, I have my own "stuff" too and you triggered an avalanche of emotion in me at that moment. For everyone's sake-especially your son, I knew at that one moment, my staying at the cash register would have been a bad decision.

As I wiped the tears from my eyes in the privacy of the back room, I must admit to being mortified and hurt. At that moment, admittedly it was all about me-it was about my hurt, my embarrassment and my "teetering on the edge of losing it." That all changed however, when my manager came back to check on me after she finished up with your son. As she hugged me and reassured me I had done nothing wrong, do you know that she told me that your wife felt horrible about your public outburst. Did you see your wife begin to sob as she apologized for your behavior? Did you hear your wife ask my manager to apologize to me? I can only wonder.

Here's the amazing thing though. There's this thing called grace. Notice how I used the word "amazing." Immediately, I felt a tugging on my heart to extend you some grace. You were obviously having a bad moment. Sadly, that moment extended next to your wife. I can only guess that it may have extended to your son as well. I felt so sad for you. Sure, I was still hurt and humiliated at best, but I have a Savior who has extended grace to me time and time again. I continued to think about it for the rest of the night and through the day today.

As I stood and sang with the choir this morning in church, I felt the overwhelming presence of my Savior come over me. My eyes filled up with tears. THIS is what Christmas is about!!! Our Lord came to earth in the flesh!!! He was born in the worst of conditions, but He came anyway!!! He came for you and for me!! Is that not mind-blowing???? I sure think it is! How can we even begin to let the small things of the holidays get to us like this when He did this for us?

I made myself a promise at the start of the holiday season. I will also be the first to admit that I'm not doing such a great job at keeping it. I promised myself that I was going to stop more often. I was going to take more deep breaths. I was going to not let the small stuff get me down. It's Christmas after all. It'll be over in the blink of an eye. Do I want my family to remember my weepy moments and sheer exhaustion or the moments that I stopped and decided to forgo the work at hand and spend time with them instead?

That's a silly question. You already know the answer. And you know something else? I've prayed that very thing for you several times since our encounter yesterday in the store. I've prayed with such a passion that you would find joy in this Christmas season in an undeniable way! I'm going to continue to pray that very thing not only for you, but also your wife and son. What a gift that would be for them!!!!

So, from me to you, I wish you the merriest Christmas ever. I pray that your heart can feel that "busting out of the seams" kind of joy that mine did this morning and that it's contagious to everyone around you. I pray that you smile and laugh a lot! I pray that you feel that feeling that is undeniably the presence of our Lord tugging on your heart.

And not only do I wish you a Merry Christmas, but I also wish you love. When it's all said and done, that's really the only thing that matters-not only during Christmas, but every day of the year!

In His Grip,
Kari

Holiday Happenings . . .

Whew. 'Tis the season . . . and what a whirlwind it's been so far. It seems that every time I turn around, there's something on the calendar that involves the likes of Thing 1 and Thing 2, but that's ok. People with grown children continually remind me that these days will be gone before I know it, so I'm savoring each event.

Mackenzie has finished her last day of preschool for 2009. She had a Christmas program on Friday, but was most excited about the reception following, where she could load her plate up with cookies. Ah, that's my girl. LOL!

Earlier in the week, however, her class did some shopping for their 6 year-old Christmas angel named Mark-chosen by the teachers. After several notes went home to the parents-explaining that their desire was for our children to earn $2 by helping out around the house, shopping day finally arrived. As their teacher divided the bills into piles, the preschoolers started counting out loud in unison, starting with $1. Evidently the preschoolers did a lot of work, because they didn't stop chanting until after squealing $102! Right after learning how much money they had to work with, they discussed the rules of shopping . . . how to behave, where to meet, etc. Their teacher leaned in close. "What's the most important thing to remember when we get to Walmart?" she asked. One little boy immediately shot his hand in the air.

"Have PATIENCE" he sighed. Us moms standing along the sidelines giggled. His mom grinned and pumped her fist in the air. "That's my boy," she cheered quietly.

Off we went. Per Mrs. M's instructions, the children scattered with their moms to choose one toy that they thought Mark might enjoy. The picture below shows a perplexed Mackenzie holding up an item she thinks that boys might like to have. (That's the problem with the high level of estrogen in this house . . . we just try and do educated guessing when it comes to the mystery of little boys.)



After the kids had made their choices, the next destination was the bike aisle ("more room to have a meeting," explained Mrs. M.). Here is where she held up her class' choices one at a time for a vote to determine if (1) all the kids felt it was worth keeping and (2) they had enough money for all the approved items. Upon holding up the first item for the power of democracy to begin, she announced that the "Mega Deluxe Lego Set" was going to cost $98 . . . leaving no more money left for any other gifts for their angel. One little boy spoke up and said "NO way-that's WAY too much money!" The other kids quickly echoed similar sentiments and the Lego set went into the reject pile. Onward and upward.


Once the class made their final decisions, they made their way over to the checkout. Mrs. M handed each child a few bills in order for them all to help "pay" for the gifts.


The photo below shows the pile of loot that Mark will be unwrapping on Christmas morning. They were so excited with their choices. I don't think I will ever forget this field trip!



Last week was also busy for Cassidy. Along with students from other schools in the district, she sang in the annual "This Is Our Story" concert. Last year was my first opportunity to attend the concert and I walked away-totally blown away by the talent in our school district. In addition to vocal and instrumental presentations is an art show featuring all age groups in the district. The photo below shows Cassidy next to a piece of her artwork that was chosen for display. (It's the one with the people, directly to the right of her head.)


She also was busy at work with the K-Kids group at school. Each year, along with the Student Council, they put together the secret recipe for reindeer food and sell it to anyone seeking to attract Rudolph and his friends to their house. The money received benefits the Salvation Army AND anyone living at the house with a lawn sporting reindeer food. It's a win-win for everyone involved! Here is a photo of the kids taking a break to pose for me. The daughter of yours truly is bouncing up and down in the very back, sporting a Santa hat with a sign taped on the front. In other words, you can't really see her.



As the bake sale and reindeer food prep take place, so does the "Secret Santa" shop at school. I can remember these types of shops at my own elementary school. God bless each and every single one of my loved ones for their display of awe and wonder upon opening each gift I lovingly chose for them. ;-) Oh my. Enough said. Here is a photo of Thing 2 carefully labeling her chosen gifts. I think this year's winner of the "best gift ever" will be Papa Dean. I'd go ahead and tell you what Mackenzie thought seemed the most appropriate gift for her grandfather, but he reads my blog (I think) and I don't want to spoil the surprise. Perhaps I'll save that for a post later this month . . .



And that, my friends, is what we've been up to at our house . . . craziness, chaos and laughter (I did mention Papa Dean's gift, right?). Life is hectic, but it's good.

Really good.

A Dose of Medicine AND Humility

I picked up my youngest child from preschool this morning . . . noting that the medicine I'd given her before school for her sniffles seemed to be working nicely. She was so excited when she saw me standing outside her classroom. If she could have turned herself inside out, I think she would have done just that.

"Mommy?" she said excitedly.

"What sweetie?" I answered.

"Mrs. Holmes knows how to wipe my nose really REALLY good!" she replied.

"Well . . . good!" I ventured, not quite sure of where she was going with this.

"Yeah," she added. "She actually does it MUCH better than you do!"

Nothing like a slice of humble pie, served by my youngest offspring, to go along with my morning coffee. It's one more reason to love mornings.

Turkey Days, Fake Trees and Black Friday Madness . . . Lots of Firsts For Me On Thanksgiving Weekend!

Has it really been over a week since I've updated the blog? Definitely! Things have been crazy busy around here and lengthy stretches of time available for blogging are minimal at best. Right now I have a few different options of other things that I could be doing with my time, but blogging is more fun than all of them combined. Here goes a lengthy update on the holiday and weekend that followed . . .

Thanksgiving Day looked altogether different for our family this year. Normally we head south and meet up halfway with my Aunt Sass and her family. Due to you-know-who and his newly repaired knee that is not-quite-yet-fit for lengthy times in the car, we stayed home but sent our girls along with my parents to meet up with the relatives.

As soon as it appeared that there was no way Gregg could handle the trip, I became contemplative . . . quietly mulling over a huge decision . . . one that I had never given any thought to-until now. After much more thought, I knew it had to happen.

I was going to make a turkey. (gasp)

Make no mistake. This was a huge decision and I didn't come to it lightly. You have no idea how many people I talked to, how many websites I searched and the frantic call I placed to the Butterball hotline. (There really is such a thing, by the way. I'd have never believed it if I hadn't dialed the number myself and talked to the nicest woman about my turkey dilemma.) Even Gregg looked somewhat doubtful when I breathlessly came in from the grocery store one week ago and said "I DID IT!! I BOUGHT A TURKEY!!" His response was that it would have been fine with him to buy sliced turkey from the deli and to have sandwiches. I turned on my heel and lovingly put our turkey right into the refrigerator. Because I know you can't wait to hear the rest, I must tell you that I remain faithful to my fan/s. I live-blogged from my kitchen on Thanksgiving Day:

9 am: Decide to get started on dinner. First up: get dessert out of the way (not eating it, making it). Realize that I didn't do so hot at trying to recall the ingredients needed for creme brulee and decide that a trip to the grocery store is in order for just one more pint of cream. Off I go.

10:07 Minor setback. Turkey is still slightly frozen. Off to the sink it goes.

10:21: Creme Brulee is in the oven.

11:30: Operation turkey prep begins. Realize I don't have any sage for that nifty little recipe for a rub I found online at 11:30 pm last night. Oh well.

Noon: Express difference in opinion with my husband as to the method of cooking the turkey. He has been watching A LOT of television this past week and has struck up a friendship with Alton Brown on the Food Network. It would appear that Alton is getting his way AND is advising me from the laptop computer that my hubby has lovingly placed on our kitchen table to help guide the process.

1:23: Internal temperature of turkey is 176 degrees. Four more degrees and we're nearly home free. My potatoes are just about ready, innards of turkey are simmering for stuffing project ahead and I'm watching the bread rise slower than molasses. Thankfully I have back-up dinner rolls if the bread is a no-go. I should probably set the table.

Suffice to say, this was all that I managed to do in the attempt at live-blogging during the process. Holy cow-things go fast when you're trying to prepare a meal of that type AND blog while doing so. Not happening again.

I will say that the turkey was mighty tasty once it was finally done and THAT'S all I'll say about that. Onward and upward.

I accomplished another "first" on Thanksgiving Day and put up our new artificial Christmas tree. Normally we're a "real tree only" family but crutches and sharp objects don't really go well together. We unanimously decided to give Daddy a break this year and go artificial. After painstakingly undoing and "fluffing" all million-and-one branches, I came to the conclusion that I probably could have accomplished another first and chopped one down myself in a fraction of the time. After patting myself on the back for assembling and fluffing branches without calling an artificial tree hotline, I headed to bed. Friday morning awaited me and so did my 6 am start time at work. Black Friday madness was a mere few hours away.

Mind you, I love to shop with the best of them, but I am not a get-out-of-bed-early-to-be-a-part-of-the-madness kind of girl. Therefore, I have never been an early Black Friday morning shopper. I've heard stories, I've seen pictures and I've listened wide-eyed to people regale me with their tales, but I've never believed them.

Until now.

Because I'm slightly paranoid (wait a minute-I've got to go make sure I turned the oven off), I set my alarm for much earlier than necessary in order to make sure that in case traffic was a little heavy or in case it would be difficult to find a parking spot, I would have plenty of time to make the 5 minute commute to work from my house. Gregg and I joked about it the night beforehand. Surely it wouldn't be too bad.

Another first for me . . . an eyewitness account of what craziness ensues on the morning of Black Friday. People actually get up BEFORE the sun does in order to shop! Are you kidding me?? At the sight of headlights for miles near where I work, I grabbed my phone and started texting Gregg at the stoplight. I wrote "This is INSANE! You wouldn't believe this!" Once I saw that a few parking spots were available near the store where I work, I headed a few stores away over to Kohls, pulled into a parking space and headed in. I had about an hour-and-a-half to kill and what better thing to do at 4:30 am than check out what Kohls looks like on Black Friday morning.

Ah . . . a few of you are with me. You know!!!! Yes my friends-at that hour, you walk into Kohls and see the lines straight ahead of you. Follow the line and you will discover that it winds all the way around the outer aisles of the store in order to end at the registers. Seriously.

I'm sure that my mouth was hanging open. I officially became a gawker. Unbelievable. I whipped my phone out again.

"In Kohls now-you wouldn't believe it. CRAZY!!" I knew that once Gregg awoke from his slumber he would appreciate the text.

I walked right out of Kohls and decided to get serious. I had to get to work before it was too late. As soon as I found a spot and parked, I started walking and also called the store. The assistant manager answered.

"Jen, it's me Kari! I'm heading to the door. Can you let me in?" I saw her appear from the back room and head to the front door. As I made my way past customers lined up to get in, I was greeted with "Are you opening up early?" "What time can we come in?" I laughed and said "You people are either really nuts or extremely dedicated!!" They laughed in reply and seemed content to continue hanging out watching through the glass once Jen let me in.

Thankfully, the day was crazy busy. It went by quickly, the sales were good, my manager was thrilled and I only encountered one crabby customer. I was scheduled for Saturday and Sunday as well and I have to say that other than the man who stood next to me hissing, growling and barking at me and then the 12-ish year-old girl who threw herself on the floor and threw the worst temper tantrum for her dad that I have EVER seen in my entire life, it was a good weekend for the retail gig. And yes. I am telling the honest truth. Hissing, growling, barking and temper tantrums were all part of it. Just ask my mom. I feared she would knock some of her ribs out of alignment because of laughing so hard as I was telling her about it.

So that, dear friends, is my weekend in a nutshell. A few nuts indeed!

The Christmas season has arrived! I pray that above all, I remember the reason for the celebration-in spite of the craziness and frantic nature that ensues. I need to remember that the focus needs to be on the baby in the manger. I need to remember to quiet my soul and let Him speak to my heart. I need to stop and take in the words to "Silent Night" even during the times that it doesn't seem so silent. I need to stop and breathe-not only for myself but also for my family.

I also need to remember one other minor detail . . .

Buy a pre-cooked ham. Not a frozen turkey.

Patience

This week just seems appropriate to bring Curious George in to pay a visit to the blog. The illustration above shows the waiting room where George had to sit before he got that shot that was shown in my previous previous blog entry. Another page from one of my favorite books . . . I love Curious George!

Whew. What a week. And to think . . . it's only Thursday.

I am so blessed. In the past several days, I've been reminded of the love, support and friendship that the Lord has given me through incredible family and friends.

Gregg has been down for the count. Literally.

An old high school track injury has been creeping back to haunt him over a number of years now. He finally gave in and decided to have some repair work done, so I found myself playing the waiting game while he was in surgery earlier this week.

It was an interesting time-a little surreal . . . if that makes any sense. It reminded me of times I've sat in an airport terminal and wondered about the reunions and the partings between people in the midst of planes coming in and going out. What kind of stories could people share?

After kissing Gregg and sending him off into the hands of his surgeon, I entered a waiting area holding several others waiting for their loved ones. Off to my right was a mother and her adult son or son-in-law. It appeared that maybe they were waiting for her daughter or his wife to come out of surgery. To my left was an older couple-just before Gregg was taken to surgery, they were hugging an elderly woman who went into the operating room prior to Gregg. Across from me was a woman-maybe about my age. She was waiting for her husband. And so it went. Several other people were scattered in the room-all hunkered down-waiting for the white phone on the desk to ring, alerting each one to the news that their loved one had just been moved to recovery.

I'm not a patient person. In fact, prior to the surgery itself, I teased Gregg-assuring him that I would be so good at caring for him-reminding him of how patient I am. No photo could accurately portray the rolling of the eyes from my husband in response to my comment. I made sure, in my prayer time on the morning of his surgery, to NOT ask the Lord for patience. We all know that NO good can come of that! You want patience? Don't ask for it because He'll give you situations which require it tenfold!

So, it was a bit ironic that the Lord saw fit to dose me with some extra amounts-seeing as how I consciously tried to avoid the topic altogether with Him throughout that morning. One by one, I watched people get up and leave that waiting room after the white phone beckoned them onto other areas of the hospital. The mother of the couple to my left was in and out in the blink of an eye. The mother and adult male with her waited a little longer. At one point I happened to be within earshot of their conversation between each other. She had mentioned something to him about having told some people at her church about their loved one. He nearly spat back at her, angrily admonishing her with "you tell everyone at that church EVERYTHING!! They don't need to know EVERYTHING!!" I know it was a private moment. I couldn't help it though. I looked into her eyes-trying to convey sympathy. She'd reached out to her church family-just as I had done with a few members of mine. It's what we do.

Minutes ticked by. I visited the coffee machine. I visited another room because of too many trips to the coffee machine. As I moved from one place to another, I saw eager family members heading toward Labor & Delivery-where new lives were beginning. In the opposite direction was the ICU waiting area, where I saw family members huddled together-faces stained with tears. We were those people three years ago-when we lost Gregg's dad. I wanted to go into that room-hug complete strangers and tell them that no matter what happens, the Lord remains faithful through it all.

As the minutes ticked by, the waiting area emptied out. Everyone was gone.

Except for me.

I found myself smiling at times, shaking my head in disbelief. I didn't ask for the wait-after all, I'd made sure to not pray for patience. It was all good . . . minor surgery in the grand scheme of things. I really didn't need any of that patience stuff.

But still . . .

Just short of the two hour mark, a man sat down next to me. As I turned to him, I saw it was his surgeon.

"Guess what?" he smiled. "It's all done!" I felt myself exhale. Minor surgery. No big deal. Gregg was fine. So was I.

My patience, however, might need just a bit of tweaking.

George Has Nothin' On This Kid

I love this book.

For anyone not familiar with it, "Curious George Goes to the Hospital" is AWESOME! I am told that during the first couple years of my life, I spent more time in the hospital and doctors offices than out of them. Somewhere along the way, Nanny and Poppop gifted me with this book.

Today it sits in my curio cabinet, worn and well loved. I dusted it off when Cassidy was a second grader and I got to be the mystery reader one day in her class. I dusted it off again this past weekend to remember just how bad it was for George to get a shot. I'll spare you the play-by-play, but suffice to say, George's reaction prior to the injection was entirely more dramatic than after the needle stick itself. Still . . .

George has nothin' on my kid.

The kid in question would be Mackenzie.

Before anyone sends me hate mail ('cause I know this whole vaccination thing is controversial), let's agree to disagree and leave it at that. Mackenzie's immune system is in the basement these days and when her doctor looked at me in Urgent Care last Sunday night and said "get this fever down for 24 hours and get in my office ASAP for the H1N1 vaccine" my mind was entirely made up. Now, on with the story . . .

Friday was the day. I kept the plans to myself, fully knowing that a head's up would mean nothing but trouble for whoever had to deal with the likes of Thing 2 that day-namely her darling preschool teachers. The hour approached and finally we arrived at the doctor's office with her older sister in tow. As we pulled into the parking lot, Mackenzie piped up. "What're we doing here, Mama?" she asked. I breezily answered that we needed to stop in for a few minutes for something. A few minutes later, we were ushered into an exam room.

Our favorite nurse (whom shall forever be known to me as "the needle artist" because her needle sticks are pain-free) popped her head in and gave Thing 2 a quick glance. "Does she know yet?" she whispered. I cheerfully smiled and shook my head side and side. She glanced back at her small patient. "Are you going to tell her?" she asked me. I sighed. Here goes nothing.

In my brightest, cheeriest voice possible, I broke the news to Mackenzie. Tears immediately arrived on the scene (not mine) and she slid off my lap, looking to make a break for it. Another nurse popped her head in the room. "Do you need help?" she asked. Judy, a.k.a. Needle Artist, nodded. At once, two other women entered the room.

Adults: 4. Crying Children: 1.

Judy looked at me. "I think it would be best to put this in the side of her thigh because her arm is so thin. Can you get her pants down for me?" I nodded as I watched my own flesh and blood dive under the end of the exam table, nearly taking out a floor lamp in the process. I got on my hands and knees, crawling into the corner where my young offspring sat shuddering. I wrapped one arm around her torso and the other under her knees. Just when I thought I had her securely in my arms, she arched her body, wiggled out of my grasp and crawled in the opposite direction. I doubled back from the opposite direction as she frantically looked for a means of escape. I heard one of the nurses quietly murmur "oh my." Cassidy stood near the wall with her hand over her mouth giggling softly.

Once captured, I wedged her between my knees and fumbled for the snap on her jeans. I pulled the zipper down and then moved onto pulling the jeans down. The jeans wouldn't budge. I pulled up her shirt, only to discover that she had managed to curl every single finger around her belt loops and hang on for dear life. I pulled and tugged. So did she. Finally, it seemed that I was winning the battle when the child went limp and collapsed to the floor. I stood her up again, made another inch of progress with the jeans and she collapsed again. And again. And again. It reminded me a little of what it would be like to eat not-quite-yet-set Jello with a fork . . . frustrating, impossible and infuriating all at the same time.

Meanwhile, the 3-woman needle brigade looked on in astonishment. I looked at them and in my kindest voice possible said, "Can I get a little help here?"

Somehow, some way, we managed to get the jeans down and her body positioned as best as possible. With everyone positioned as they were, it was impossible for Mackenzie to see what was going on. At the touch of the alcohol pad to her leg, she let out a scream. Cassidy continued to giggle. I shot a look in Cassidy's direction and told Mackenzie it would be over before she knew it. I think at that point, she let out a low growl. Or maybe that was my own voice I heard . . .

The needle artist stood upright again. "All done!" she said happily. The other women looked at me; color had drained from their faces. I nodded sympathetically. Mackenzie immediately stopped crying.

"It's done?" she asked. Judy nodded. I shot a look at Mackenzie. "You were crying and carrying on so much, you couldn't even feel it, could you?" She shook her head sheepishly. The needle brigade quickly left the room. Cassidy stood off to the side, still holding her hand over her mouth.

We finally exited from the exam room. I looked at the nurses and thanked them.

"I promise," I said as I held my right hand in the air, "that I will try at ALL costs to NEVER put you ladies through this again." They smiled and reassured me that it was ok. As we left the building however, I had visions of them adding Mackenzie's name to a wall-of-horrors with a Sharpie marker. Surely at their annual office Christmas party, Mackenzie will make the 2009 Top Ten list of most memorable patients to walk in their doors.

As we drove away, I dreamed about the possibility of a nap. I glanced in the rearview mirror at Thing 2.

"That didn't hurt a bit," she smiled.