Days of December 7 {Cheer}

[Warm and Cheery]

I left the house this morning, the sun still rising over the water and three children bundled head to toe trailing behind me. The sky showed signs of blue, of clarity. And with it came the cold.

So we decided to scrap our plans to walk downtown for groceries, making do instead with our last bit of milk and roasting up a big batch of golden granola. 

We did brave that cold once more to meet brothers returning home from school, and to pick up our daily ration of juzi, the mandarin oranges that are oh so good and in season right now.

There wasn't much of significance to the day, but sometimes all it takes is a mug of warm tea, some almonds roasting with coconut and sunflower seeds, a couple sleeping children and piles of freshly folded sheets, and a warm inside that can brave any blast from the outside, and you may just find yourself feeling a bit of cheer.

[Bright and Cheery]

[Naughty Cheerub]

Days of December 6 {Red}

[Red]

If there was one color I was told I could never wear as a redhead, it was... red. Well, purple and orange and yellow and fluorescents (it was the 80's) and I guess most colors outside of the earth tones. This may have something to do with why I have trouble branching away from anything outside of... brown. 

Leave it to my little girl to help me spread my color wings. That and all her hand-me-downs. These clothes came mostly from a family with three beautiful blondies and another little girl who has lovely olive skin, brown eyes and hair like dark chocolate. Needless to say, the colors have been slightly sunnier and have included a lot more purple than my redhead counselors would have deemed appropriate. 

But she looks fine.

And red, you can wear it girl. You can wear it from head to toe for all I care.

Starting with the toes.

This week's theme at The View From Here is {Red}

Days of December 5 {Down}

{Down}

We walked this morning, faces to the ground, looking at the newly laid concrete tiles that formed our path. The light was bright and harsh, though muted a bit by the gritty skies that still linger. No blue in sight. 

We took a family picture down by the water's edge, only one more to go in our twelve installments of The Twelve Project. It too showed all of us, heads down, some looking at lapping water, some at children's heads, some for avoiding glare in the eyes. But viewing it later, it seemed so somber, everyone bent on the earth like that.

It seems a bit like these Advent days can be. Bent over, looking at the stuff of the earth, when you feel like the heavenly things are bright, but maybe a bit too glaring. You've heard the Story told oh so many times, and the angel voices singing, and the joyful sounds, and yet the world at your feet just seems too real, and a bit too bleak. I was thinking of a family leaving our city soon, these holidays must be filled with little that seems wonderful for them just now. My in-laws had to cancel their plans to come for Christmas, due to an emergency surgery and the necessary recovery time. It's good that it did not happen while they were here. But it still stings of broken down bodies and plans that we can't make happen. 

There was a quote this morning. Something about "Christians are joyful, not because they turn a blind eye to suffering and injustice, but because they look to a Reality that rests sure underneath it all." There is a lot to unpack there (not an exact quote either). It's true we don't gaze stupidly at heavenly realities while all this broken stuff goes on down here. But can you drum up excitement over God with Us and mangers and shepherds when it seems so distant from the dirt at your feet?

This, I think is the true beauty and joy of Advent. You need not drum up anything at all. It is not trying to re-create a picture perfect Christmas setting. It is not trying to feel the same kind of joy and excitement over Jesus in a manger year after year. 

It is telling yourself the Truth about Immanuel, in the midst of your utterly earthy circumstances. Perhaps some years the telling will bring joy, some years surrender, some years hope, some years wonder, some years sadness, some years longing, and maybe some years it will just go silently by, not making any visible ripples, but building up strength in the soul bones. He seems to be a fan of silent years. Must be a special kind of work that can be done.

Days of December 4 {Blurred}

[Blurred]

It's not clear. Should we have gone to that crazy Christmas Fair or not? I know we barely missed having a ten story crane fall on us, something we soberly observed as we peered out the taxi window at a smashed car and the snake like neck of man's genius come crashing down. 

It's not clear. Should I have spoken up last night? Or kept quiet and still; letting others speak, ruminate their thoughts into the air, and kept my own blunderings to myself. I know I thought about it far too much in the hours since... do I care more that I spoke ill timed words, or that others might perceive me with ill? 

It's not clear. What we're having for dinner. Too late to make pizza dough, and I'm still sick from that taxi ride. Enough vegetables for curry. Maybe those muffins can wait another day. 

It's not clear. The sky. It's still gritty and grey, but tinged with a coat of dirt brown. Is this blowing in from the West? I thought that happened in the spring. Or is it spewing from the factories, or the parched ground and all that dry dust that can't stay put for lack of rain?

It's not clear. Why the greatest Story the earth has ever known takes place in such humble circumstances. Why so much that is True is hard to understand. Why we can be so glad and grateful, and so sad and disappointed at the same time.

It's not clear. But it's still lovely, worth looking at. 

Oh, did you think I was talking about life?

 It's just a Tree I'm looking at. 

Days of December 3 {Sending}

{Sending to Anna}

I just walked to a friend's house to see her off. She is leaving for the month of December to visit family in the U.S. I left a little package with her, to carry all those hours through customs and check-ins, and hopefully send from a post office somewhere in New York, so it can hop back on a plane and finally make it's way to Portland, where my newborn little namesake now lives. 

And why not send you something as well? I am not a linky person, because I just don't browse the internet enough, nor do I know the best places to visit. My links all end up being the same sites over and over again!

But I was inspired by a few things I saw just recently, so I'll happily share them with you. 

And while we often say in this day and age "what would we do without Google?" I do sometimes wonder how it would feel to be rid of all this wonderful access of ideas. Because often, instead of inspiring  it can easily be intimidating or overwhelming, or just make you feel like you have

 a. no time, 

b. not enough money, or 

c. no creativity. 

There are probably other things it makes you feel too. 

I'm just saying, take them with a grain of salt. Or only take ten minutes and then stop looking. Or only pick one idea to try (today for me, the muffins!), or be happy for all those people with wonderful gifts and talents that they share so freely with the rest of us, but then pick up the bits you have in your house and just use them differently than you did before (for me, green leftover string around scraps of linen from an old bag). 

Without further ado, here they are:

• Such a simple idea (how could I not love?), and cheap! It actually makes me think of gift-wrapping... since you can't get paper here and all I have is half a roll of brown postage paper.
• Can't wait to make these (perfect for leftover feta a friend gave me and some fresh pumpkin), and these are a yummy idea for scones, but I think these would make a perfect little holiday gift (as in, someone please make them for me!)
• This is one of the prettiest little advent calendars I've seen. Love those red numbers and sweet little packages.
• Using her free Advent devotional with the kids this year, and personally following the daily readings found here.
• Everything under the tree is going to made from wood (though from a local woodworker) or wool, I think. 

Days of December 2 {Revisited}

[winter produce]

This morning as I ducked my head into the market at the gate, the colors of poppy red Hawthorn's and these sun-kissed melons caught my eye. The composition of this photo looks vaguely familiar... and I have to tell you I physically restrain myself from repeating this shot almost weekly. I just love it for some reason. And the change in available produce due to the current season means that the pears and grapes sitting in abundance in August get replaced by crates of mandarin oranges and now these jewel toned Hawthorns. I just want to string them up and wrap them around a tree or something. 

Instead, today we are all home together... making homemade cinnamon ornaments and sweet rolls for a bake sale, coloring and playing indoor soccer (hmmm), trying to enjoy a rare day with all of us here while not getting in each others hair (another hmmm), taking an afternoon break to Sound of Music, and watching the sky fill with a gritty layer of pollution (final hmmm).

Surprisingly, I am in good spirits despite the hair pulling, gritty skies, and the fact that putting the holes in our ornaments cracked every. single. one. of them. I feel strangely grateful for my sweet kids in spite of all their issues (didn't someone once look at me the same way?), and the smell of cinnamon baking in the air doesn't hurt either.

I Won't Be Home For Christmas

When I woke up this morning, feet slapping quietly on the cold tiles, heading for the kitchen and waiting for the drip drip to reach the 4 cup line so I could sneak the pot out for a quick pour, I noticed it was dense with fog outside. So dense you could barely see the next building over. And it was strangely warm, nearly 60 degrees, on December 1st. It was just another moment, in what can sometimes feel like an endless string of moments, where China feels like the furthest place from Christmas you could be.

Sometimes the removal of all the familiar ambiance and traditions and weather can make me feel removed too.  On some days, this feeling removed and barren is just hard. But on some days, and there are more and more of them, this removal comes as a good thing. Stripped of all the outward adornments that I love, it's easier to love the source of all these festivities, which for us, is primarily about the Person we are celebrating, and not the Hallmark card around it. But don't get me wrong, I like the look and feel of the Hallmark card too. 

So even though it is hard to watch friends board a plane for the States every December, and even though I wish I could fill my house with the scent of fresh evergreens, or buy brown paper and raffia to wrap gifts in, in many ways I am grateful to be here. Things are simpler, and it's not as hard to say no to the rat race (because there isn't one) that surrounds the Holiday season. 

Without all that pressure, it can sometimes seem like you have to create Christmas out of nothing around here.  But even this, I don't mind really. It's like a blank slate that you can fill with whatever seems most special, or appropriate, or purposeful to you. So this year, just a few things to help us celebrate the wonder and joy of Advent (which means "coming"), and the main event of it all-- Immanuel (who even comes to China).

Our tree.

Nativities to look at, nativities to play.

Nightly Advent lighting

Baking, of course.

Preparing gifts, making gifts.

And last but not least, just a little fun for me... joining in on the December Photo Project, which is posting one (at least) picture a day for each day in the month of December. You can join too!