Ross wishes you all very Happy Holidays!
Christmas is my favorite time of year, so naturally I have many great memories. The entire month of December seems filled with magic and goodwill. By the time Christmas Eve arrives, I am as excited as my children, who don’t fall asleep until quite late in anticipation of a visit from Santa Claus. In 2009 I wrote a journal entry about our family’s Christmas adventures; this year I found it when I was sorting through my office. Kind of fun to read back through it while I sit by the fire…
This year we almost ended up separated by a huge winter blizzard. Dad had just returned from a long vacation to Kansas City, and he’d left Mom with my sister and brother-in-law. She would be coming home “sometime after the New Year” so our celebration would be small in size. Within 24 hours of Dad’s return home, we began to hear ominous reports of a storm system scheduled to hit the Black Hills just before Christmas.
Since Dad had been gone for several weeks, he had numerous important matters to take care of before coming to Rapid City, where we planned to spend Christmas together. Because of the inclement weather, it was starting to look like Dad might not be able to join us, and that didn’t seem right. Although he had other invitations to celebrate with friends, Van and I didn’t want Dad to be without family during the Holidays. After watching the local forecast on television we realized that if we didn’t make a move immediately, we would remain separated. The time window was closing fast!
Without discussion, we knew exactly what we would do. We called Dad to tell him that we would be coming to Belle Fourche, and then we immediately began to pack. We loaded my car with dozens of brightly colored gifts, a duffel bag full of snow clothes, a twenty pound turkey thawing in a bucket, stockings for Santa to fill, the kids, the dog, the hunting rifles, and last but not least, the Dutch oven. It was an afterthought thrown in because it contained half a roasted chicken from the previous night’s dinner.
Van was a bit nervous about the icy road conditions so we took it slow and let more adventurous travelers pass in their two wheel drive sports cars. We talked about how we felt good, that this was the right thing to do, bringing Christmas to Dad. We could have stayed in our warm, comfortable house with the decorated Christmas tree and all the amenities we wanted right at our fingertips. But Christmas isn’t about having things. This year year we decided it was about leaving our comfort zone and giving more than we received.
My happiest Christmas memories are of times spent with my parents and sister during childhood, or with my husband and children more recently. I was looking forward to a rather quiet evening and a more or less regular Christmas Day, nothing out of the ordinary. But since my family has never fit the cookie cutter family stereotype, I should have known this wasn’t going to happen. Somehow, frantically packing warm comfy clothes, preparing enough food to feed an army, and taking all the bows off the lovingly wrapped gifts to cram them into our already too full SUV just seemed so much more appropriate, so us.
We arrived safely at the schoolhouse (did I mention my parents live in an 85 year old schoolhouse?) in Belle Fourche around noon and quickly unloaded as the wind began to pick up briskly. After lugging our belongings up three flights of stairs, we enjoyed a quick lunch of leftovers and then planned our events for the next few days. Dad and Van had one major objective: turkey hunting at the local dairy farm. My objective was to cook a feast and assume the regular domestic duties of a matriarch (story of my life). Coming to Belle to see my parents is fun but it also requires unlimited energy, sufficient prior planning, and the ability to deftly travel through the 50,000 square feet of schoolhouse in a timely manner (that is why the unlimited energy and prior planning is so important).
After lunch the guys decided to go on a hunting trip while my daughters and I prepared the project room — what we call the Break Room because it is equipped with everything for projects and entertainment — for the festivities. Stockings were to be hung near the wood burning stove and little decorations were put up around the room. Gifts were unpacked, bows were reattached, and a pyramid of presents was stacked on the long table at the back of the room. When the guys returned from hunting I went upstairs to the kitchen to make supper. We had all the ingredients for a large batch of chicken with noodles, so I quickly went to work. In the meantime, a plate of Christmas goodies was delivered to the Break Room to keep the rest of the group content. The dinner turned out nicely, and we were pleased to discover how much faster it cooked in the Dutch oven. After our nice hot meal, we turned in for the night.
Van woke me on the morning of Christmas Eve to tell me that the power was out because of the weather. He was REALLY excited about this turn of events, and he encouraged me to bring the girls downstairs to the Break Room where the wood stove was putting out sufficient heat to keep us warm. When the girls woke up we pulled on slippers and went downstairs. The guys were making the most of the power outage by cooking breakfast on the stove. Bacon sizzled in a skillet, the griddle was heating for pancakes, and the coffee…well that presented a problem. We needed a campfire coffee pot, immediately! The guys figured out an alternative method by heating water on the stove and then pouring it over paper towels full of coffee grounds. Yuck.
We had been without power since 11:00 the night before, and had no idea how long we might wait before power would be restored. We had to consider the idea that Christmas Eve might be spent mostly without power and prepare accordingly. Van was having a ball, and even said he hoped the power would stay off at least another day. He had unpacked all our camping gear, which we kept at the schoolhouse. He had a big grin on his face. I was a bit less enthusiastic, unsure how to keep the kids busy without electricity. After a very good old fashioned breakfast of sausage, bacon, and pancakes, Van went on a search to find a camp coffee pot so we could have drinkable coffee.
Meanwhile, Dad and I had to figure out how to entertain the girls. We fixed a few broken ornaments — being in the Break Room meant we had access to glue, paint, woodworking and metalworking tools, and all kinds of other fun things! We kept them busy with an assortment of toys and crayons, and felt grateful for the natural light streaming through the large windows. It felt quite cozy and it was kind of fun, echoing back to a simpler time. We were all actually a little disappointed when the electricity came back on around 10:30 a.m. Dad and I wasted no time once we were certain the power was going to stay on. We loaded the dishwasher and washing machine and began preparing Christmas Eve foods.
I had realized that bringing the Dutch oven was a blessing in disguise; it would come in handy for cooking foods on the wood burning stove if we had another power outage. I hurriedly put together canned beans, carrots, celery and onions with a ham bone left over from Thanksgiving; I added a blend of spices and plopped it onto the stove where it could simmer until lunch. Van came back with a nice stainless steel coffee pot given to him by a friend in town. He had stopped by to check on us while the power was out and heard that Van was looking for a coffee pot, so he went home and got his old camp pot for us. Even though the electricity was now working fine, Van put the pot on the stove to percolate because we wanted to continue enjoying the old fashioned feeling.
With the beans bubbling on the stove, I started making pumpkin pies in the kitchen upstairs and had two baked in no time. Next was homemade pizza, a family tradition on Christmas Eve. I was concerned that the dough wouldn’t rise because the kitchen was very cold, but the early afternoon sun came through the window and warmed the dough enough to make it double more quickly than I expected. My older daughter helped me make the pizza while my younger daughter napped. When the guys returned from a Christmas Eve hunting trip with two fresh turkeys in the evening, one pizza was cooling and one was baking in the oven.
We had decided in advance to attend a Christmas Eve service at the Baptist Church down the street, and after the guys came back from their hunt we had a few quick bites of pizza before getting ready for church. We dressed the girls in beautiful dresses and then bundled up against the cold. The church was only about two blocks away, but due to the heavy snowfall and frigid temperature, we drove to the service. We sat in the back and were soon joined by a family we had known for years, kind people with big smiles and warm hearts. During the service, the girls were quiet and seemed awestruck by the carols and Nativity symbols. My husband joked quietly that something must be terribly wrong since our children were actually behaving in church!
Our oldest daughter Annie began to fall asleep in Van’s arms, but during a brief moment of near silence, she passed gas audibly enough for our friends to hear. Van looked at Annie and she said loudly “It wasn’t me!” We nearly had to excuse ourselves to laugh hysterically in the foyer. After the service, my friend told me that she thought the ‘mystery gasser’ was her baby, and we all had a good chuckle before we headed to our respective homes. The service was quite good, although the carols were really high pitched, so I felt out of my element. Van solved that problem for himself by not singing at all — so clever! The sermon had a lovely message and the celebration was very uplifting, though, and we left in high spirits!
Back at the schoolhouse, we told Dad about Annie’s comical moment while Van dressed and cleaned the turkeys. We ate more pizza and other goodies, then we hung our stockings near the stove and left cookies, milk, and a letter for Santa. The girls were so excited about Santa coming that it took nearly two hours to get them to fall asleep. Finally, they snuggled into their blankets and dozed off. Van and I stayed up a while longer and enjoyed the crackling fire in the Break Room. Snow fell all night outside our windows.
The next morning, we awoke to a winter wonderland. The storm had passed through the Black Hills slowly, leaving an almost unfathomable amount of snow. We checked the forecast and found out the blizzard warning was still in effect for 24 more hours. Not to worry, we had plenty of firewood, food, and things to do! The girls were thrilled with the goodies they found in their stockings and we all enjoyed unwrapping gifts. When it was time to clear away the torn wrapping paper and move on from another Christmas, I felt happy, not like past years when a sense of guilt and loss always overtook me. Loss because the time went by too fast, and guilt because of our frivolous spending on things we usually didn’t need. This year I just felt really good.
As we lay cuddled up after a long day of family time, my daughters and I were very still and very quiet. I don’t know what the girls were contemplating before they fell asleep, but I thought about the meaning of Christmas, and how this year’s odd circumstances conspired in a truly blessed way. Most Christmas seasons leave me feeling sad, frantic and burned out as I try to cling to the traditions and decorations long after the New Year has passed. But this year, on the evening of Christmas Day, I feel ready to let go of the things that are not important and hold onto the things that are.
Glad I found that old entry. Hope your holiday celebrations continue to be merry!
- The Morning After Christmas (cabinpeople.com)
- 메리 크리스마스 (Merry Christmas!) Our First Korean Christmas (deepfriednoodles.wordpress.com)
My husband came home from work a few weeks ago with a determined look on his face. He told me that his chain of command was putting pressure on all the soldiers in his unit to dig deep into their pockets this Christmas season and donate to one or more of the many charitable causes in the community.
“It’s not that I disagree with the concept,” he said as he put away his uniform for the evening. “It’s just that what Command is asking is actually really hard for some of my soldiers to do. There are some who can’t afford to donate any money. If they give up even one twenty dollar bill, it will cause them significant financial hardship. There are really some people, in my company, who shouldn’t be asked to give. I don’t think that Command understands that there are needy people within their own organization.”
“That is terrible! Is there something we can do?” I asked. We had already made it known that any and all single soldiers were welcome to our home on Thanksgiving, in case they had nowhere else to go. Single soldiers stationed away from home are more susceptible to being alone on the holidays, and we wanted to provide a meal, good conversation, and a warm place to relax among friends, should that need arise.
“I don’t want to make charity cases out of anyone who might be identified as a soldier in need,” my husband answered, “but I also want my people to be aware that poverty and misfortune can strike anywhere. We need to look to our left and to our right, and we need to be more conscientious of the relationships we have with those who we work with everyday. They may have a need that we can fill through friendship and generosity.”
My husband went back to work the next day and spoke to his soldiers about looking to their left and right and being cognizant of those who might need a helping hand. There are so many ways to give and show love; it doesn’t have to just be during Christmas. I love this time of year because it reminds me of the hope that love and generosity can possibly last longer than just one season. Keeping the hope alive and strong is up to us, in the choices we make whether or not to act with love and generosity of spirit. Being there for a friend in need is a way to show love, and there are so many ways to be there. If you are unsure where to begin just look to your left, and look to your right.
This story was inspired by my husband, my generous and loving family, and my amazingly lovable friends on Facebook. After reading uncountable posts about the immeasurable acts of kindness happening over the past weeks, I feel very blessed to know that so many people are out there sharing love and goodwill this Christmas! Bless you all!
Today is the ninth anniversary of the day that Van and I eloped at the Bexar County Courthouse in San Antonio, Texas. We were trying to remember every detail, but time does take a toll on the memory, and even after only nine years, we couldn’t piece together all the events of what turned out to be a day full of enchantment and joy.
It started out rather chilly for Texas in the morning when we took my toddler son to the San Antonio Zoo. We rode the little train through Brackenridge Park and tried to catch chickens at the petting corral. After lunch (I still remember making gently pan seared scallops with angel hair pasta although Van swears I made this for dinner the night before — he still hasn’t learned to choose his battles) Van whispered in my ear “Marry me today, right now”! I didn’t have an engagement ring, but Van had given me a pair of gorgeous diamond earrings as an early Christmas gift, and these served as my bridal decorations.
I also had brought my birth certificate from South Dakota, because we planned ahead before I flew down. We knew that we would elope, the day would just be a surprise. So when the right moment made itself known, we hurried downtown to the courthouse. My little son was content in his carseat singing along to Willie Nelson‘s ‘Crazy‘ as we searched for a parking spot. I was wearing blue jeans, a vanilla colored lace trim tank top, and a tan corduroy jacket with little white flats. Van was also in blue jeans with an off-white button up shirt and a high and tight haircut.
It was getting late in the afternoon and many of the staff were getting ready to leave by the time we entered the courthouse. As we boarded the elevator for the marriage floor, a justice of the peace asked us if we happened to be looking for someone to do the honors. We must have looked obvious. “Thirty-five dollars, and I will marry you,” he said casually, as though he was accustomed to selling DVDs or Folexes out of his file cabinet. We followed him to a neat, sun drenched office and went through a very quick and — okay, I will say it — rather boring ceremony. It was cut and dry, run of the mill, nothing special. My son was our witness, although he spent most of the time sucking his thumb, but it was definitely special to have him with us.
Once we were official, we went to another room full of cubicles and large noisy printers to get our certificate. We were in shock for at least a few hours afterward. We even joked that maybe we weren’t really married, maybe the marriage certificate was just an elaborate looking piece of useless paper. After all, thirty-five dollars? Had we been taken? We stared at the receipt that came with the certificate. That certainly looked real. It must be real!
Van suddenly remembered that he needed to run an important errand at Fort Sam Houston for his ROTC commissioning ceremony the following evening. He had to pick up something for his uniform at Clothing and Sales, so after running the errand and picking up a nice bottle of Champagne at Class Six, we stopped at the Burger King because my son was famished. We were still in shock and couldn’t even think about food.
While he ate we watched news on the screen positioned above our table and murmured plans for the remainder of the evening. We decided that the most appropriate way to celebrate would be to drop off my son with the in-laws (wow! now I had in-laws!) and take a trip to the famous Alamo, then a stroll over to the River Walk. We somehow made it to the Alamo just as the sun was splashing a bit of light across the limestone facade of the monument; then the sky went dark, and Christmas lights began to glow softly everywhere. It gave the balmy air a romantic, positively magical feeling. Linking fingers in warm hands, we paced jubilantly to the River Walk, the shock of eloping finally wearing off. We were in a festive spirit and ready to celebrate!
The River Walk is never more beautiful than during the Christmas season. We ate barbecue, if I remember correctly. Or maybe it was Mexican food. It was one or the other. In San Antonio it has to be one or the other, because they are both phenomenal. We visited the Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream Shop and bought Phish Food to take home and enjoy with the bottle of Champagne. We gazed at the brightly hued strings of Christmas lights twined around everything and watched the tour boats lazily float down the river to the sound of Mariachi music. When we were tired enough to go back home we continued to celebrate over ice cream, Champagne and Tequila, and we kept our marriage secret. At least until the next evening.
Here is just one thing that I love about being married to Van. After nine years, we still go out on dates just like our first date as a married couple. We wander around, discovering things to bond over. We try new food establishments, take walks around quaint Main Streets with fanciful little shops, go people watching in town squares, have meaningful talks about nothing in particular or about the biggest concerns on our minds. We argue about what events transpired nine years ago on the day we got married and try to piece together those events in chronological order. Then in the end we agree that it doesn’t matter how much we remember because we can remember all the best parts anyway.
- Alamo Beer Co. planning brewery under historic Hays Street Bridge (kens5.com)
- Archaeologist May Have Discovered Earliest Spanish Mission, Alamo’s Original Location (hispanicallyspeakingnews.com)
- A Gourmet’s Tour of San Antonio (cravedfw.com)
- The ‘Old’ Buckhorn Museum & Saloon (wheresthedrama.wordpress.com)
My middle child woke up very ill this morning and was really bummed because she would have to stay home from school and subsequently her Christmas Concert tonight. I tried to make her feel better by promising to start a fire in our fireplace so she could enjoy the cozy feeling of being near the lit up Christmas tree and burning logs.
My husband is classically the one who starts the fires in our family. A former Boy Scout, he is amazing at getting a fire started without using an entire box of matches and a ream of scrap paper. I am pretty bad at starting fires but wanted to make my depressed child feel better, so I fussed with the fireplace for nearly an hour.
We had a roaring blaze one minute and a fizzling black void the next. My daughter stopped caring about the fire but I was determined to succeed. Even if it meant burning the house down. Finally, after a dozen matches gave their lives and an unspeakable amount of paper crumpled for the cause, this happened:
I pumped up the Christmas songs and my little girl curled up on the couch to read in front of the fire. It lasted a glorious 30 minutes. Now the fire is only in the embers and the logs are half burnt, but my daughter feels a little better. I didn’t burn the house down, and when my husband gets home I think I will ask him for a Boy Scout fire building lesson!
Yesterday the unthinkable happened! I went to Wal-Mart and scored THE LAST Chuck Norris 2014 calendar. I already had a couple of possible recipients in mind by the time I checked out, but somehow the calendar did not make it home from the Wal-Mart parking lot. Oh no! I left it in the shopping cart! This morning I went back and asked the very helpful Customer Service representatives for assistance. They have saved my ass before; I left my wallet on the bag turnstile once and didn’t notice for an entire day. Anyway, no one turned in a “lost” Chuck Norris calendar from the parking lot, so suffice it to say, somebody snagged it out of my cart. Bastards. To add insult to my debacle, it was as I mentioned before, THE LAST Chuck Norris calendar at that Wal-Mart! NOOOOOO! The upside of the story is that FINALLY, after two months of wracking my brain to figure out what to get my father-in-law for Christmas, I am going to go online and order a Chuck Norris calendar for him, maybe a poster too.
Check out Chuck’s Christmas video from this blogger below:
We are finally getting snow in Kansas, even though it is only a light dusting, and the temperatures have dropped dangerously across the country. I am feeling homesick for South Dakota’s gorgeous winterscape. Can you guess why?
- Finding the Right Tree (bloggingpioneer.com)
- South Dakota Capitol lighting ceremony is Tuesday (rapidcityjournal.com)
- Cattle depart Havre for South Dakota; donations roll in (billingsgazette.com)