Thursday, December 15, 2011

Eleven Pipers Piping

.... or puppies panting in this case.

This is my middle sister, Chrissy with her two "children," Abe and Molly. Abe is a Brussels Griffon and he really is, well, sort of unattractive. He looks like an Ewok pretty much. Poor guy.

While home in Texas during Thanksgiving Chris and I spent most night with Chrissy and her husband Jeremiah in their beautiful home which she had already decorated for Christmas. There twelve foot tree stood in the living-room adorned with maroon and gold ornaments. The stocking were hung, and the nativity was set. Above the breakfast table she had hung red and gold Christmas balls from the chandelier.

Even the tiniest festive adornments had been placed in the kitchen and bathroom and entryway. My sister is very artistic and creative- and her home looked very festive.

I realize this has very little to do with Pipers or Piping, but my sister absolutely LOVES Christmas, which is why her house was decorated before Thanksgiving.... She loves finding just the right gift, and buying things for other people and baking! She is truly a marvelous baker because, unlike myself, she does not try to be chinchy with the sugar, she uses all the butter that the recipe calls for, she doesn't purposefully substitute skim milk for heavy cream and she knows the difference between baking soda and baking powder. I don't even own a double broiler.

She's a wonderful baker of white chocolate covered anything and caramel stuffed whatever and her holiday cookies and bars and truffles LOOK pretty. My baked goods are barely edible and they look, well, like something you wouldn't be proud of plating and taking to a Christmas get-together.

When I think of my sister Chrissy at Christmas I think of snooping in my parents closet, shaken packages, torn edges of wrapped presents and her stacks of gifts of Christmas morning. She liked to pile each of our gifts to see who's stack was the tallest. Obviously. Therefore revealing who mom and dad loved the most.... I was old enough to realize, however, that my charm bracelet and bottle of Exclamation Perfume cost just as much as her marble run and ant farm and leg warmers and basketball and klutz books on how to make your own friendship bracelets. But still, my pile was usually 1/4 the height of hers.

Chrissy loved- and still loves- sweets. For several years the three of us girls go a Whitman's sampler boxes of chocolate. We loved this because there was actually a sheet of paper inside the box that told you which chocolate was which kind. This changed the way I picked my chocolates forever. No more wondering if you would end up with a mouth full of caramel or peanut-butter. And the Strawberry, Lemon and Orange-creme filled squares: forget about it! I was not interested. In an effort to make my sugar last I'd stash this box away, knowing Chrissy's would probably be gone within a day or two.... and then she'd come looking for my candy.

Chrissy was the only daughter with bangs. The only one with brown eyes. The one who could outrun the boys and was terrified of spiders. Christmas is her time to host, buy, decorate, make and give. I'm blessed to call her sister; she is a blessing to so many.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Twelve Days of Christmas-ing

It's time to share the love! It's time to squeeze out all the meanness and hate and selfish-tinted motives that drive us so much of the time.
...

Today, as I sit at my desk behind a Christmas tree and manorah and a big bowl of M&M's (in our company's colors, with our companies name on them--- on each and every M&M-- this is not cheap people), I feel rich. I feel blessed. I know that as an American I have so much more than majority of the population of the world have.

I know this is true. I believe it is true. I've seen it, I've heard from those who've experience it first hand. When Chris told me stories about the street kids in Rwanda who literally live on the streets, it broke my heart. Rummaging through the city dump and taking care of each other at five, eight and eleven years old- it's how they survive.

So why do I feel entitled to a massage? My needs no longer include water, food and shelter. I need a certain amount of counter space in my kitchen, nice jewelry, a fifteenth lip gloss and a massage at least once a quarter.

Sometimes, and I guess especially at Christmas time, I am overwhelmed with the opportunities to give and serve and minister and be charitable. There are so many people who need their basic needs met as well as needing to experience sincere care and love and hugs.

I want my life to be effective, and not just by writing a check or donating a baby-doll or a gently used winter coat. I want to have an impact. And I'm not talking about changing the entire world tomorrow. I'm not naive enough to think that I matter all that much, but there has to be a better way.

Maybe it's just one blog post at a time. Or hugging one Scrooge a day. I'm not really sure what making an impact on my part of the world looks like right now, but I feel like something BIG is coming. I find comfort in knowing that all I have to do today is what God intended for me to do today- no more, no less. But I don't want to sell myself short, or aim too low, or completely miss using my talents, gifts and abilities for greatness. Something larger than I could dream. Something outside of myself. Something only God could do.

Change.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Texas Run Down...

Here are some pictures of how we spent SOME of our time in Texas.












Momma and me, Thanksgiving day. We had an amazing meal that my mom prepared 100% of. She loves to cook and we love to eat so it works out well.















Chris and I rode motorcycles with my dad. What an amazingly free feeling. I miss it.















This is a picture my brother John took from underneath the trestle. The tiny people way up in the air are LB & I and Chris- toting his obnoxiously long walking stick. He looked like Moses leading the way. I was more afraid of tumbling to my death.















This was one of our many modes of transportation during our trip in Texas. In the back of the truck my father-in-law let us borrow were huge bags of cow feed. The funny thing is that every time we'd drive by the Texas Longhorn cattle that get fed the before mentioned feed.... they'd come running across the pasture, recognizing the hum of this particular gray Ford, expecting food.




















Chris and I both did alot of reading and journaling during our week away. This is Chris sitting on my sisters and brother-in-law's back porch.