Days of December 14 {Dream House}

{in the making}

Today the Little Scout and I visited the boys at school. It was pretty exciting all around... there were gingerbread houses being made (lots of candy stealing from some sweet little hands accompanied by sideways smiles), there were peppermints (something you cannot get here in China), there were big brothers who were excited to show off their little sister and little sisters who were delighted to be so included, there was a library trip and new Christmas stories and a stop in to see Daddy and our favorite teachers/neighbors to hug, and oh what a morning!

{a find}

{dream house}

{you can sit with me}

Days of December 13 {Brrr}

{Together is Better}

The temperatures began to dive today. 

On my first of three trips to the bus stop at the top of the hill, I was feeling a tad under-dressed in long sleeves and a wool sweater-coat. By noon I was in a heavier coat, but my hands and ears were freezing. 

At three thirty, I decided to make an uncharacteristic (and final) trip to meet Skills even though he's old enough to make the short walk back with his friends by himself, because I was guessing he's not old enough to know that in this weather, hats and coats and scarves are just necessary, even if they don't look cool. I was right... he likely would have walked in the house half frozen with frostbite had I not been there to zip up everything and tie my scarf around his bare neck. Mother of The Year, here I come.

{Stories As Only They Can Tell Them}

{Brrr}

Well, my friend Tash might sneak in and grab it from me... she actually hugged her kids on the way home instead of sticking a camera in their face. Maybe I'll have to wait until next year.

Days of December 12 {Going}

{going}on

{resting}here

{passing}through

I took a walk this morning, wanting to go a bit slower and maybe photograph some of the things I always pass when I run. It was quite cold, heavy with cloud cover, and whipping with wind. It was Sunday too, and I couldn't help but think of a few old hymns when I looked at these pictures later on.

This is December in Qingdao: colorless, huddled, but brave (women on bikes, men in the ocean, me with a camera).

Days of December 11 {Bushy}

[Bushy]

There is a fundraiser going on at our school to raise money for a nearby orphanage. Part of this fundraiser is called "save or shave" wherein whichever bucket has the most money in it decides what my husband must do with his facial hair. 

As you can see, the "save" bucket continues to have command.

If burrowing my face into this wild bush of scratchy hair to kiss my man every day as he leaves for work means children who are already in extreme want can have some of their needs met, than I am humbly willing to accept this state of things. 

And who's to say it's not a bit of a treat to have someone daily reminding you of what Mary may have felt like, or even Mrs. Klaus for that matter. 

Days of December 10 {Ring Around}

{Ring Around}

Imagine all the glitter bottles in all the world poured out onto every piece of plastic evergreen, pine cone, or enlarged Santa face cut-out, then throw them all into a small 2x2 meter stall, and there you have the extent of what shopping for Christmas decor here in China is like. 

It is a frightful, perhaps even obscene event. At least for someone like me, who is drawn to natural textures and simple, tasteful arrangements. My sister in law offered to go buy up brown paper bags and rafia for my wrapping next year if that tells you anything.

So making our home feel and look festive brings an added challenge, which can be frustrating if I think too hard about it or pine too much for what I can't have (like a real tree, or a fresh evergreen wreath). But it can be fun and inspiring too... it makes me look for things to use that aren't being "sold" as Christmas ware. Like fruits, or bushes heavy with berries. It makes me think of things like stringing some beads I found at a local shop, or placing a clump of cinnamon sticks in a bowl. And of course, the kids can always make paper snowflakes.

It's just one more of those things about living away from what I know and love; I can miss it furiously, but at the same time be somehow decidedly okay with it. And looking at my ring of Hawthorn's around some recycled candles, I can even be almost delighted in it.

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

If you'd like to share photos of some of the tinsel in your home, click on over to join.

Days of December 9 {Reasons}

[coming home]

I hear comments, drops of words that are meant to smack as reminders, to remember the real reason for the season. Sometimes it sounds as though somehow in the midst of all our merrymaking, we should really be looking quietly at that Baby in a manger, thinking real hard and holy about that Night. So we bake and string garland, shop for presents and go to concerts, all the while throwing these reminders around, telling ourselves we should really be looking up at the sky for angels, instead of going about this busy holiday business.

But part of me thinks, or wonders… did He not come to earth?? Mary pondered these things in her heart, but she still fed a baby and walked to get water and cooked meals and swept dirty floors. She still had to go to a baptism and buy pigeons beforehand and talk to Joseph and get vegetables for the next day.

So I’m wondering, if your heart is quiet, can you not ponder all these things as you go about your earthy life too?

We have to wonder then, don’t we, why DO we celebrate Christmas? Why do we carry on these festivities  at all when things like joy and thankfulness, worship and generosity should be part of our everyday lives, not brought out like berry wreaths to adorn our exteriors once a year.

So, I’m not saying I’m certain of this, but I do wonder if the act of celebration is more a gift given to us, than it is anything else.

“This is what faith gives us, celebrations of what has already come true and celebrations of what will someday be true. We’re between the promises and the coming true. And to keep us going, the Good Lord gives us celebrations. We celebrate because we believe, not because we’re particularly happy, because often we’re not.” ~Myrtle

The Winter Seeking: A Novella  by Vinita Hampton Wright

The Story of Christmas is my story, a part of my history. When you tell and re-tell parts of your history, you are learning about where you came from, and how to continue where you are going. I have to re-tell this story to myself every day. But the celebrating of it… the looking forward, the anticipation, the delight of candles in a dark room and special foods laid out once a year, the special songs and particular smells… this is a gift of joy in a hard world.

Yesterday, his upper lip sticky with chocolate and whipped foam, my little son asked questions about this Story, one he must one day choose to take or deny as his own. My answers, the bare facts of it all, sounded crazy coming out of my mouth.

Jesus was adopted by his earthly father too, just like some of your friends are.

Why?

Because Joseph wasn’t the father who made him.

Who made him?

God put him in Mary’s tummy.

Well then who is Jesus?

He is God, who became a man. You see, there is one God, but he is three different persons. How?

I don’t know exactly how, but he is. He’s not like us.

Who is Jesus’ father then?

God the Father.

Well then who is Jesus?

Oh dear.

Yes, it’s not the most acceptable story on the block. It’s not the easiest to understand. But then, as dear old Mr. Lewis says, “it’s just the sort of thing you wouldn’t expect”, which is not necessarily grounds to build an entire theology on, but it does ring as a sort of truth. If God really were far grander, far beyond my imaginations, my ability to comprehend, as a made thing should feel towards its Creator, then I would have to expect that His ways would not be something I could conjure up to man-made stories.

It’s a wonderful, real, downright dirty and broken up Story, with Glory leaking all through. This is the story of our lives too, is it not? So I can sit with my mind full of holiday creatings and desire for cozy merriment, and still muse on the good Words every morning before dawn cracks through the glass panes, and find joy in the telling of my Story, our Story; as true today as it will be in June, but giving thanks for a reason, a season to shout about it.

Days of December 8 {Stars}

[Seaside Stars]

Would I ever have thought that a washed up starfish would make me think of Christmas? But here I am, living in a coastal city in the northeast of China, it's December, and I'm seeing stars. 

When we walk home in the mornings, we peer over the wooden railings at the water softly washing away the contents of the silty shore, or creeping slowly up it's edge-- depending on whether the tide is coming or going. At that time of the morning, the sun is usually low over the water, starting it's climb upward, and the colors and bend of the light are usually the loveliest they will be all day. The gritty air we complain of makes it bleed red and orange, or a luminous gold in a muted sea of faded purple and grey.

Often there are a few women strewn here or there atop the jutting rocks, belting their lungs out in rhythmic exercises that release all the hot air and bad energy. A bag of seaweed will sit safely from the water's edge, it's owner bent over, combing the rocks and sand for choice bits, dangling them up in the sunlight, picking unwanted strands or particles from their shiny skins.

And today, as we gazed down below, we saw one large flat rock, sparkling with dozens of starfish, like jewels spilled haphazardly in the sun. Someone had clearly gathered them and laid them out to dry. Later in the morning I found several more piles in various locations along the road. Was there a sudden deposit of these amber toned beauties in the night? Is this the season for starfish gathering? Do they know it's Christmas? 

My son has been asking for a star to top our tree. Maybe this is the perfect blend for our seaside holiday. 

Squid for Christmas dinner? Anyone?