holding all the cards

i absolutely adore christmas decorations.  we haul our boxes out of storage each year on the day after thanksgiving, chomping at the bit to get them out and festivate the house.  (i totally just made up that word.  i think i like it.)  i love the electric candles flickering from the windowsills, the wreaths hanging on the doors and windows, and the fresh holly and stockings on the mantel.  i even look forward to hand washing my christmas fine china and crystal to display in the dining room -- which is saying a lot since i hardly ever hand wash anything.  this is why we start the season relatively early; not only do i just love the mood set by all these decorations, but it takes so much dadgum time and effort for us to get it all up that i want to enjoy it as long as possible.

but as soon as new year's day hits, i'm over it.  the boxes are back out and ready to be repacked, soon to be bursting at the seams with the new additions that inevitably come via neighbors, friends, and school art projects.  i find myself eager to start fresh, freeing the tabletops from their nutcrackers and angels and manger scenes, and regaining the much-needed floor space that's been held hostage by the christmas tree for the past five weeks.  and when the kids finally depart for their first day back at school, i look around at my newly uncluttered, empty house, and breathe a small sigh of relief.

but it's january 11 -- a week and a half past the moment that we closed the storage room and bid a fond farewell to our seasonal stash -- and there's one big project i have left to tackle.

 

it's our christmas card collection.  all 76 of the picture ones, anyway.  with our new house layout this year, i mulled over how to display them, and ultimately decided to just attach them to the doorways in the kitchen that lead into the dining room and breakfast room.  that way, we'd see them all the time.  sure enough, on any given evening as i'd cook dinner, i'd be peppered with questions from liam and susanna: "who's that?"  "how do you know them?"  "what's a sorority sister?"

i'm not totally sure why i've hung onto the cards for as long as i have.  perhaps it's the task ahead: for years i've stored them away in a huge photo album, trimming them down to 4x6 size and even going as far as arranging them alphabetically by last name.  i know i'm going to run out of room with this year's additions and will need to make a trip to a craft store to find another album.  (and yes, i'm aware at how this post is painting me in my most obvious type-A light.  i'm learning to embrace my dorky side.)

but i think that it's really that i just don't want to say goodbye.  the pictures of our friends and family have become, well, friends and family themselves.  they've sparked long-forgotten stories that we share with the kids, from descriptions of  playgroups in asheville (whose members, who at the time were tiny newborns along with liam, are now in the second grade) to recounts of trips chris and i made all over the country pre-children.  we've re-lived weddings and camps and college days to a surprisingly rapt audience over dinner each night, and i think it's given liam and susanna a truer sense of their place in our lives.  they might have thought that we really didn't exist before they came along, but they've started to see the larger picture.  they're beginning to understand how we're part of a larger community of people -- some whom we've known for decades, some whom we've known for just a few months, and still others whom we've known for so long that we don't even remember how we know them.  a community that's now represented on glossy photo paper and matte cardstock of various sizes, with return addresses from all over the continent.

tomorrow, i will take down the cards.  at some point in the near future i'll place them in an album -- although i've sworn to myself that this year i won't worry about alphabetical order -- and will store the album with the rest of our christmas boxes until the day after thanksgiving next year.  and on that day, we'll dust off the cover and flip through the pages, smiling at the 172 children (92 boys, 80 girls) smiling back at us, marveling at how many of them have grown.  and then we'll eagerly await the mailman's arrival every afternoon as we begin to fill our kitchen doorways with our community once again.

the pageant

thirty-one years ago the story goes that my mom hung up the phone one december afternoon and excitedly told me that i was going to be mary in the st. michael's christmas pageant on christmas eve.

and i promptly told her i had no interest in being mary.  nope, i insisted, after she suggested i think about it.  not gonna do it. so she called back the coordinator and let her know that i had declined the offer.

of course, as early evidence of my severe issue with indecisiveness, i woke up the next morning with a new attitude.  "okay," i said.  "i've decided that i will be mary after all."

and in an early lesson of tough love, my mom barely looked up from the paper.  "too bad," she replied.  "they've already found someone else."

i was devastated, but vowed to be the best pageant angel i could be. and then ... my luck changed.  my mom got another call from the pageant coordinator on the morning of december 23rd, informing us that mary had come down with the chicken pox, and wondering if i'd like to take over.

and a star was born.

ha!  hardly.  for all the hype and hoopla surrounding the casting of mary every year, she really doesn't do much.  gabriel, of course, steals the show, and even gets to hold a microphone to proclaim the good news.  joseph talks about how his wife is going to have a baby and asks about room in the inn.  shoot, even the innkeeper gets a few lines.  but mary?  nada.  she just walks down the aisle looking as serene as possible and later places a baby doll in a wooden trough.  still, i practiced all that day and the next, leading up to my big moment.  and i suppose i did a satisfactory job, because there aren't any family stories of failure or embarrassment; of course, there aren't any pictures either.  (maybe i have made this event into a bigger deal than it actually was at the time.)

but here's where i think the story actually does become a big deal, at least to me.  thirty-one years later to the day, i sat in the front pew of the exact same church, and watched our daughter walk down the same aisle in the same costume.  susanna was also mary -- a serene, sweet mary -- and surprised us all with her confidence.  i felt sure that she'd get to church that morning and balk, since she has a tendency to change her mind at the last minute.  (not quite sure where she gets that.) so i was mentally prepared to resort to bribery to get her to walk down that aisle.  and who could blame her?  it's one thing to agree to do it a few weeks ahead of time; it's quite another to stand at the back of the church and muster up the courage to trek down a 50-yard aisle with 500 pairs of eyes focused solely on you.  but apparently we didn't give our reserved second-born enough credit -- because she never wavered.

and when i looked at her, i could actually see in susanna's eyes the same kind of reaction to gabriel's tidings that mary has in the bible.  i could see her half-smile, her reluctance to bask in the limelight but her willingness to do what was asked of her.  i could imagine susanna quietly accepting gabriel's news, surprised to be chosen, but sure of her abilities.  decades ago, i had initially declined the offer.  i wasn't sure i wanted to take on that responsibility; i didn't know that i was the right choice.  but susanna?  she knew that she could do it.  she never doubted the outcome.  she said yes.

"i am the Lord's servant," mary says in the gospel of luke.  "may it be to me as you have said." with those two sentences, mary became one of the most important people in the bible, and certainly the most important in the story leading up to Jesus's birth.  despite the amount of lines that are uttered in the pageant, we all know that it's not joseph's, or the innkeeper's, or even gabriel's big moment.  it's mary's.  mary really was the star of the show -- thousands of years ago in nazareth and bethlehem, and on christmas eve of 2011, in the form of a quiet and trusting blond-haired, blue-eyed, five-year old little girl.

receiving gabriel's message

mary, the little gray donkey, and joseph

lovingly placing baby Jesus in the manger

wordless wednesday, christmas style

meeting the big man at our club's santa brunch

enjoying the craft table at the museum of history family holiday party

one of the four main christmas food groups: cookie dough

making gingerbread houses at school

gofster's back, making snow angels on the dining room table

gofster vs. barbie in a game of guess who (notice that they've chosen the characters sarah & chris) ... my money's on gofster to win

stuffing build-a-bears at the club for duke children's hospital

they were thrilled to be given matching christmas pajamas ... wonder how many more years that will last?

an instant message

this is a story i first shared on the blog a few years ago.  i revised it and contributed it to our church's annual book of advent devotionals. 

I stared at my computer screen on a December day a few years back, feeling the same emotions that had plagued me for months.  I was frustrated.  Disappointed.  Bewildered.  This was not the career path I had envisioned when I graduated from college with a degree in mathematics.  

Once upon a time, my career path was what I had envisioned.  After dreaming of becoming a teacher for as long as I can remember, I saw my dream realized; I taught middle school math for eight years in three different school systems and loved just about every minute of it.  I challenged and motivated and inspired my students, forging meaningful relationships with them that lasted long after they left my classroom.  Last spring, my own children were even in the wedding party of a young woman I had taught when she was in the sixth grade.  At every point in my life, I just knew that God had called me to teach, and I received daily affirmation that I was indeed answering His call.

But then I became a mother, and I answered God’s call to step away from the classroom, leaving behind a job I loved but eager to begin my new one.  I missed my students but I always knew I’d return.  So when, five years later, I was offered a part-time position teaching high school math online, I jumped at the chance.  What could be better?  I thought.  It’s the best of both worlds: I’ll be teaching, but I’m still at home with my children.

Within weeks, however, I began to question my decision.  This was a far cry from the kind of teaching I was used to, from the profession I so adored.  My new students were all teenagers who had been expelled from school; they had committed an offense so serious that they were not allowed back on campus for the remainder of the year.  All of a sudden, I wasn’t sharing my love of algebra with a room full of gifted and inquisitive children who hung on my every word.  Instead, I was speaking through a webcam to a group of juvenile delinquents who often paid attention only during the commercial breaks of Jerry Springer.

It was on that December day that I had finally had enough.  I had spent hours creating an interactive lesson that required my students to insert their responses on our webpage.  But instead of insightful answers that demonstrated their mastery of the algebra curriculum, I saw my screen begin to fill up with phrases and drawings that were clearly gang-related.  (The Crips all used blue ink; the Bloods used red.  By this point I was already well-versed in gang vernacular.)  Disgusted, I shut down the webpage and just sat there for a few moments in silence.  This was not, I felt, what God was calling me to do.  So why was I doing it?  Why do I teach?

And then an instant message appeared on my screen, from a student who had just recently joined my class.  I stared at the blinking icon for a few seconds before opening it.  “Heyyyy Mz Mann,” it began.  “I’m being induced to have my second baby tomorrow so I might miss class.”  I typed a response immediately, letting her know I would help in any way that I could, but before I hit enter she had logged off.   I wondered if I’d ever see her again.

But the next day, her username appeared in my virtual classroom.  I texted her, asking if her plans had changed.

“I already had my baby,” she replied.  “He’s in the crib right next to me and I’ve got my laptop in the hospital bed.”  And not only was she present, but she participated in the class, answering questions and solving problems and stepping away only once, briefly, to change a diaper.  When our class ended and everyone else had left, I spoke to her through my headset, telling her how much her dedication impressed me.

"Oh Mz Mann," she replied, "I need this.  I need to finish high school.  I got to show my kids that school's important.  I don't want them making the same mistakes I made.  I know I don't do that good in math, but I'm trying hard.  I'm learning.  I'm doing the best I can."  I then realized that this online program was the best chance she had of finishing high school while taking care of two small children.  This program, which I had begun to doubt was even worthwhile, was her lifeline.

I thought a lot about her that month, as we counted down the days to Christmas.  Surrounded by images of Mary holding a baby Jesus, I couldn’t help but think of my student, a teenager herself, bringing a baby into this world in less-than-ideal circumstances.  As we read Luke’s Gospel describing Mary’s total acceptance of the role that God had chosen for her, I began to evaluate my own role and what God had chosen for me.  I wondered if Mary had mentors to guide her, and vowed to serve as a mentor of sorts to my student, who desperately needed role models in her life.  

I knelt in church that Sunday in Advent, pondering God’s wisdom and timing with the birth of our Savior, and humbled by His wisdom and timing in my life, thousands of years later.  I had asked a question, and the answer was so perfect and so complete that I had no doubt it was from Him.   Because this – well, this is why I teach.

wordless wednesday

as i seal my last christmas card (which has been even more of an ordeal than usual, given that i somehow lost my type-A excel spreadsheet with my addresses that i've maintained since the beginning of time), i was inspired to take a trip down memory lane.  seems memory lane is rather short and only goes back to 2005, since i'm missing liam's first christmas card.  still, looking back at these makes me realize how far we've come.

it also reminds me that getting an acceptable photo to use has always been, and i'm afraid will forever be, not for the faint of heart.

2005: a bald liam, and an announcement that another bald baby was on the way

2006: two new family additions: a teeny tiny susanna, and super.  (incidentally, this is the only time super has graced our christmas card.  you think getting a picture of two children is tough?  try two children and a dog)

2007:  matching smocked outfits ... how i long for the days ... this might be my favorite so far

2008: a move to raleigh necessitated a change of address card.  look at those chubby cheeks!

2009: on day six of chris's annual i-don't-shave-at-the-beach week.  next time, we'll take the picture on day one

2010: liam's missing some teeth and a belt (funny what i obsess over)

2011: and we're back on a swing.  seems we've come full circle

wordless wednesday: scenes from the season

i'm totally missing christmas already, so what better way to reminisce than to finally get around to transferring over some pictures from my iPhone?

susanna became the master baker this december. these are reindeer cookies we made for her class, with chocolate chip eyes, M&M noses, and pretzel antlers

chris and i always had a real christmas tree until our first holiday with a puppy, when spider almost knocked the thing over in her quest to drink the water from the tree stand. so in 2001 we invested in kmart's very own "the perfect christmas tree".  we got a good decade's worth out of our $75 purchase, but after battling lights that didn't work and branches that were hanging by a thread, we decided that our Perfect Christmas Tree wasn't so perfect any longer.  off to the dump it went.  will we be back to the authentic thing next year? time will tell ...

 enjoying disney on ice

you would not have believed the spread at liam's elementary school for their gingerbread house activity.  every table in the cafeteria was filled with goodies to construct these houses palatial residences

 susanna's house was certainly on a smaller scale -- just the two of us on a cold afternoon in the kitchen -- but no less fun

susanna at the nutcracker (doesn't the dancer look thrilled?)

the snow started late on christmas night (the first white christmas chris and i had ever seen!) and left us a good eight inches the next morning to make the perfect snowman

and a mere five days later, we were at the beach in 70 degree weather and having a marvelous time

dreams fulfilled

according to the chinese calendar, last year was the Year of the Ox.  here in the US, of course, it was just 2009.  i've often thought that the chinese should be commended for creativity -- who needs numbers when you can define time with living creatures instead?  so this is my idea: in the future, we'll refer to past christmases not by the year, but by the presents the kids received.  for example, we won't look at pictures and say that they were taken in 2009; we'll say, "oh yeah ... that was the Year of the DS and the Bike."  and 2010?  "that was the Year of the Basketball Goal and American Girl Doll."  (hmm.  that's a pretty long name.  no wonder the chinese stick with animals.)

anyway, for months now, the only thing liam has requested has been a basketball goal.  it was actually quite difficult to give suggestions to family, because we knew santa would likely be taking care of the one thing on his list (seeing as how he'd heard about the thing every time liam sat on his lap) and there wasn't much else liam would even mention.  susanna, on the other hand, had a list a mile long, which varied depending on the day of the week and what toy catalog she happened to be holding.  but the one constant was the american girl doll named kit.

on christmas morning, our two poor children were forced to wait at the top of the stairs while i positioned myself with the video camera near the tree.  they entered the family room, mouths agape at the transformation that had taken place while they slept and a bit overwhelmed at where to begin, so we finally suggested two particular boxes to open.  santa had written liam a riddle to solve and had enclosed it in his box, which was supposed to lead him to look out the window -- but in all the hubbub, he didn't quite get it.  (he races through reading the poem outloud on the video, so don't expect to understand anything but the final two lines, and that's only because i repeat them for emphasis.)

but what is clear is their sheer JOY at discovering that santa had granted them their wishes.  unfortunately, what's also clear is my high-pitched squeal.  when susanna does it, it's endearing.  when i do it, it's grating.  perhaps 2010 will go down as the Year of the Shriek.

the magic

there's just no better way to describe christmas with a four- and six-year old in your house than magical.  i know these years are fleeting; sooner than i want, that magic will begin to wane and i'll have to use more common adjectives like special and memorable.  but for now, chris and i submerge ourselves in their delight and wonder, letting their enthusiasm transform us into giddy, awestruck, excited little kids too.

out of all the festivities surrounding the holiday, from the beginning of advent through epiphany, my absolute favorite time is christmas eve.  and i'm not even talking about the day of christmas eve, although it's filled with events like the children's pageant, and the church service that follows, and our extended family lunch, and the dinner that we host in our home that evening.  i'm talking about the eve of christmas eve, when it's finally dark outside, and the last guests have left and there are just the four of us.  liam and susanna's pajamas are on, their teeth are brushed, and the platter of carrots and cookies for santa and his reindeer is sitting on the table.  they're curled up on the sofa, flanking chris as he reads twas the night before christmas, just as my own father did to me and my siblings for decades and how i imagine millions of households also wind down their day.

i think that i am more consciously thankful at this moment than at any other time of year.  thanksgiving day, after a while, seems almost forced, as if we are being hit over the head with reminders to BE GRATEFUL OR ELSE.  but on christmas eve, as the night turns dark, everything gradually slows, and i become reflective.  the hectic, crazy, busy season, with its parties and shopping and cooking and school programs and the inevitable stress that results despite your best efforts otherwise, is over.  in its place is calm.  peace.  quiet.  and all that's left for us to do is simply wait.  i look towards the couch with my camera in hand, and i stare at the three most important people in my world, and i am humbled by our blessings.

and that's the kind of magic that means the most.

o holy morning

liam was honored to play the role of joseph in this year's christmas pageant at our church.  what makes this even more meaningful is that, thirty years ago at our same church, i played the role of mary.  while the heavenly host (including susanna, decked out in a glittery halo and huge gold wings) quietly observed, he made his way down the long aisle with mary and the little gray donkey trailing behind.  he learned his lines well: "do you have any room in the inn?  my wife is going to have a baby!" and i wouldn't be surprised if hollywood comes calling soon.

i'll assuredly have lots more pictures to share of christmas fun, but for now, on this christmas eve night, as we wait in anticipation for christ's birth, i'd just like to post these.  we wish you all the merriest of christmases!

with love,

chris, sara, joseph, and an angel

sweet.

it's hard to predict, even after six years of parenting, what gifts are going to be worth the money and which ones aren't.  it seems like every year, one of the kids will have their hearts set on something -- whether it's a certain game or toy or craft -- and then, after their elation of tearing open the wrapping paper to find their heart's desire inside, we never really see much of it again.  (whenever this happens, chris calls it a Kix Experience.  growing up, he became convinced his life was not quite complete without having kix sitting on the cereal shelf of his pantry.  but when his mom finally caved in and bought it, he was sorely disappointed.)  this happens often enough with our kids that we currently have a trunk full of these treasures headed over to goodwill to, hopefully, make some other children truly happy.

on the other hand, there are many, many items we've bought that have shocked us by how loved and used and adored they turned out to be.  this is never more apparent than at christmastime, as we drag out the holiday boxes from storage.  because, without a doubt, the biggest hit in the mann family -- the most loved, most used, and most adored -- is the fisher price nativity set.  did we have any notion of how well received it would be?  no.  it was a last minute decision at target, when i noticed there was only one box left and figured that it must be a good thing to have if they were down to their last set and it was still early november.  it seemed divinely inspired, so i squeezed it into my cart and carried it home.  

and what a treasure that non-researched, unrequested, unknown item would turn out to be!  our loyal readers might remember it from a few years back -- i was so enamored with the thing that i actually wrote about it twice (here and here).  the kids' interest in it hasn't waned one iota, but especially after re-reading those posts, i realize how far their understanding has come.

liam and susanna like to team up to put on "puppet shows" (a misnomer, because, of course, these are not puppets, but figurines.)  they'll crouch down on the rug in the family room underneath the coffee table and instruct their audience (usually eight or ten stuffed animals) to sit on the couch.  and then they'll stage a somewhat rudimentary production of the first christmas -- unscripted, unrehearsed -- but surprisingly chock- full of biblical truth.  for example, in yesterday's production, liam made sure that joseph was lying down because the angel was going to visit him in a dream.  today, mary and joseph had a short discussion about how they were only engaged and now that they were expecting, they knew that they needed to go ahead and get married. 

and tonight, right before bed, susanna positioned the angel gabriel in the sky above the manger for a very important announcement.  in her high-pitched voice, gabriel informed the audience of one (me) that, "the baby has been born!  and he is so great and he is blessed and he will be called M&M - ull!"

M&M-ull.  Emmanuel.  a candy, and our Savior's name.  both are so sweet, in completely different ways.  it is my sweet daughter who already knows the story so well, at the tender age of four.  it was a sweet angel, proclaiming the best news of history.  and it was the sweetest message the world has ever heard.

no matter how you pronounce it.

look at how far we've come

join us, won't you, for a walk down memory lane?  you'll wonder why mr. claus still bothers to come visit us, given the reactions our children have had to him over the years.

2006: six-month old susanna wanted nothing to do with him

2007: liam lasted all of a half of a nanosecond on his lap

2009: susanna.  meltdown.  enough said.

but we FINALLY had a successful visit with the jolly old guy at our club today.  in fact, susanna excused herself twice from brunch to go back and talk to santa since she kept thinking of additional presents she needed to request from him.  a far, far cry (no pun intended) from what happened last year, to be sure.

2010: all smiles!

and after a year of intense therapy, i'm pleased to report that chris has come quite a long way himself this year.   

wordless wednesday: the gofster chronicles, part 1

on the first of december, a new month arrived along with our old pal gofster.  we'd been anticipating the arrival of our elf friend ever since the christmas music started being played on the radio (which felt like right around halloween), so when he finally appeared rappelling from a zip line he'd rigged up in the family room, the kids couldn't have been happier.

he's got quite a few tricks up his sleeve this year.  some he's created with the help of inspiration from his other elf friends (who must discuss ideas when they return to the north pole each night), and some he's created all on his own.  we've neglected to photograph all his antics, but below are a few.

just what will this sneaky elf think of next?  stay tuned ...

after a long flight, seems he was ready to relax in bath of M&Ms

perched up high in the playroom, reading a book to a reindeer

and the kids' favorite so far -- he created a mii for himself on the wii

wordless wednesday

a couple of important notes about the following video:

• chris and i both suck at recording video. (just makes you want to watch it, right?)
• our plan was to have chris stationed downstairs to capture the kids' looks of awe as they entered the family room for the first time on christmas morning. instead, liam just stares at the camera and says "cheese" in a bewildered tone, and susanna needs major prompting to approach her new bicycle.
• liam is then more interested in reading the note santa left behind than opening the big present sitting right in front of him with his name on it (his #1 wish: a nintendo DS).
• and, in true sucky-recording-video fashion, the second he discovers what's under all that wrapping paper and exclaims, "SANTA MADE MY DREAMS COME TRUE!", the camera ran out of memory. so listen closely, for you will hear the beginning of that genuine, unsolicited declaration. (we asked him later to re-enact it; it kinda loses its charm the second time around.)
• i'm sorry about the length (~100 seconds.) not only do we suck at recording the video, but we also have no idea how to edit it.
• this is about as opposite as "wordless" as you can get. my apologies, all the way around.

wordless wednesday (a day late)

"and there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night." luke 2:8 merry christmas from our shepherd and sheep!

down with some updates

our week in review, facebook-style. (in other words, i have nothing interesting to say, so i thought i'd just pull my status updates i've written over the past seven days, put them in a list, and go wrap some more presents.)

sunday: "ho ho, Mister Toe, hung where you can see ...": christmas lyrics according to a five-year old

tuesday: the song "all i want for christmas is you" came on the radio today. liam's reaction: "this is the silliest song i've ever heard. who wants a person for christmas? i sure hope santa knows to bring me toys instead."

thursday: so this is what it feels like to turn 35: i got beautiful jewelry from my husband and an as-seen-on-tv Snuggie from my parents ... and i'm not sure which one i'm more excited about. when does the AARP card arrive? saturday: my little brother was driving home to raleigh from st. louis and has now been stranded on I-64 in the storm for 24+ hours. no food, 1/4 tank of gas. he's melting snow to have water to drink. say a prayer for him and the thousands of motorists around him. i can't even imagine how the families with babies or the elderly are surviving ...

an update on the updates: after the snow plows cleared enough for ben to get off on the nearest exit, he waited in line for three hours for gas, tried every hotel in the vicinity, and wound up spending the night on the floor of the fitness room in a hampton inn in west virginia. he arrived home, safe and sound, after 48 hours on a trip that normally takes 12. thanks be to God! and on a completely different note, i've discovered i tend to overuse ellipses ...

wordless (truly) wednesday

wordless wednesday: the gofster chronicles

gofster, as i shared last december, is our Elf on the Shelf. after enjoying the off-season in the north pole for the past eleven months, we returned home from charlotte the day after thanksgiving to find him hanging out on the chandelier in our foyer. he's been keeping a close eye on the happenings in the mann house ever since, reporting back to santa claus each night and popping up in a different spot the next morning. the very first thing the kids do after they wake up is to scour the house for gofster. on tuesday, after an exhaustive search, their discovery was accompanied by peals of glee from their bathroom. there was that mischievous elf, perched on the window next to a note he had left. now we just need to teach him how to flush.