Our First VIennese Christmas

Christmas morning for us this year was the magical stuff of childhood.  All of us were giddy with excitement as we snuggled together in bed, (for maybe a minute or two) speculating about the arrival of Santa and whether there would be any new presents under the tree.  Eventually, we couldn't stand it anymore and ran together out to the living room where there were gifts overflowing and new dollies sitting under the tree.  Because I didn't have the heart to make the girls wait around for breakfast without opening any gifts, we let them open presents from each other first.  Bailey picked out a glittery flying pig ornament for Audrey, a Christmassy ring and stick-on earrings, temporary tattoos and a little stuffed horse on a keychain for her school backpack.  Audrey got Bailey a monstrous playdough kit that makes cupcakes and ice cream. (can you tell who took her shopping? Next year Mama's enforcing a price limit)

Luckily, though, ripping open the playdough was enough of a distraction for me to whip up some biscuits and gravy for breakfast.  This is old-school traditional Gamelin family fare on Christmas morning and I could not believe how long we stayed at the table trying to get the girls to finish eating.  There were mounds of presents waiting in the next room.  If that's not motivation to stuff your gob, I don't know what is.

After what felt like hours lingering at the breakfast table, the girls finally set to work, opening presents.  A good number were from John and I, but it was really nice to have so many gifts under the tree from family too, wrapping everybody into our Christmas celebration.  The girls got lots of books and art supplies, movies, new figurines for their wonderful land of make believe.  The big one for Audrey...the one I could tell she was waiting for...was the only thing she's really ever asked for as a gift.  This is the first year she has voluntarily requested anything for Christmas: "A dog who can walk and talk, but isn't real.  Who's white and has a leash."  This might sound random, but her best friend back home has a FurReal dog (on a leash, who can be 'walked' around the house) and she wanted one too.  Audrey got one strip of wrapping paper off the box, realized what was inside, shrieked in excitement, jumped up and down flapping her hands and then refused to take the rest of the paper off the box because she was so nervously excited.

Um, that dog was worth it.

And because Audrey got one, Bailey got a dog too.  Her's doesn't walk (thank God!) but he does make noise--he came with a vet bag full of equipment to take care of him.  He sneezes (good Lord!), barks and makes chewing noises when you feed him a bone.  Pretty ridiculous stuff, but the girls love it, of course. 

After all the gifts were unwrapped, several of them already busted open and being played with, John rolled out the big kahuna; the doll mansion that is taller than either of the girls.  Obviously, much elation occurred...and thank goodness there was a place for all those new figurines to live.  The girls haven't really stopped playing with their dollhouse since.

The rest of our day was gloriously lazy, spent playing with all the exciting new things in the house, smelling and eventually getting to dig in to the turkey.  We were planning on having friends over for dinner, but they wound up with sick kiddos.  Never let it be said that the four of us can't manage a festive feast, however!  I indulged in some Christmas poppers from the British market in our neighborhood; we ate dinner wearing paper crowns and laughing over the other cheesy contents--conversation starters like "what kind of pizza topping best fits your personality?".  Cheese.  Definitely cheese.   

After dinner there were mincemeat tarts, fruitcake, Christmas cookies and marshmallows...and John trying to figure out how to video chat on his new iPad.  We spent the evening watching new movies (Brave!) and chatting with family in between.  It might not have been a traditional Christmas, but it was filled with new wonderful ways to celebrate together. 

I struggled a lot this year with our seeming unchecked consumerism, feeling the need to teach my kids that it isn't all about presents--that the American ideal of excess is flawed.  I might regret it some day, but this year we chose to sweep that all aside--to allow some excess and magic into our celebrating.  We wanted the girls to have it at least this once, and especially while we are so far away from our family.  It's indisputable that the magic of the day was palpable--one I hope our girls will be able to remember.

New Traditions: Our Christmas Eve

For the most part it seems nine months have been sufficient to acclimate ourselves to the 'new' culture we're living in; comfort and routine are things that now come easily in everyday situations.  The out-of-the-ordinary, however, is where we start to experience that heavy weight on our shoulders--not so much as a result of doing things like birthdays and holidays in a foreign culture, but more-so because we're doing it on our own.  John and I are both used to the delightful chaos of family holidays, so the weight of bringing something good and joyous to our girls all on our own is unfamiliar and intimidating.  And, who are we kidding?  For those who celebrate it, Christmas is the end-all, be-all holiday in the land of kid-dom.  So, John and I developed a strategy (as is our wont). It might not have been a very good plan...or an environmentally friendly plan...or one that will teach our kids the true meaning of Christmas, but what our plan lacked in responsibility, we more than made up for with child-like enthusiasm (and a pinch of consumerism).

Historically, our Christmas Eve's in the states are usually spent with family in fancy dresses, eating clam chowder or italian wedding ball soup.  Then we go to church and listen to a lovely sermon and sing Christmas hymns or watch kids perform a hilariously imperfect pageant.  Either way, the night always ends with the smell of a hundred extinguished candles after singing O Holy Night in the candle light--an event that often leads me to tears.

This year could not have been more different, but never hear it said that it was any less joyous.  We spent our Christmas Eve in happy preparation for the big day; mashing potatoes and prepping the turkey.  We also flitted around our district, picking up packages that had arrived just in time for Christmas.  Bailey, most notably, spent an entire tram ride alternately patting and smooching a package from her Auntie Em.  When the Bear and I got home with our package, we were greeted by the sight of the (real!!) nativity set that had serendipitously arrived just in time to celebrate Jesus' birth.  What really got our jolly spirit rolling, however, was that magical besmooched box from our Emma.  Not only did she send a ridiculous number of presents for the girls to put under the tree, but she also included a selection of Christmas cookies (that none of us Gamelin girls were able to make with each other this year) and homemade marshmallows to go with the hot chocolate mix she also made.  Wow.  Who needs Santa?  Emma saved the day!

After dining on some Raclette for dinner, we bundled our girls up and headed out into the night to look at the best of Vienna's best Christmas lights.  It was the most deserted we've seen the first district in a long time and it was just lovely to wander around listening to the girls exclaim over every new kind of light they saw. We walked under the grand chandeliers lining Graben and stopped to exclaim over the curtains of lights on Kohlmarkt before doing the rounds to see the gigantic red baubles gracing Rotenturmstrasse.  Stephansdom cathedral was beautifully lit from the outside and we stepped inside to listen to a bit of the Christmas Eve mass.  It might not have been in English and there wasn't any chorus of  "O Holy Night" drifting through the hall, but the smell of Christmas eve permeated the air--the smell of hundreds of candles extinguished; lit hours before in prayer for others, they blessed me too.  That smell brought back to me the memory of every other Christmas Eve I  can recall.  Once we exited the cathedral, we finally conceded to Audrey's wishes to return home (she thought the lights were great, but she was also starting to realize the sooner she went to sleep, the sooner it would be Christmas.)  So, we carried our tired babies down Kartnerstrasse and home on the tram, where Audrey had decided to suddenly convert to a Santa-believer.  I'm assuming the logical side of her realized it was obviously more profitable to believe in this guy...and the part of her brain that loves to live in make-believe couldn't resist the idea of a jolly old man leaving presents behind.

Just like that, we were launched back into the magic of Christmas.  The girls put on their Saint Nicholas Day jammies, we drank Emma's cocoa topped with fluffy marshmallows and indulged in some more Christmas cookies. Then came the snuggling on the couch in the light of the tree, listening to Papa read The Night Before Christmas.  We even left out cookies and milk for the big guy, because, let's be honest, who knows whether Audrey will permit there to be a Santa next year or not.  As we huddled together in their room for bedtime, I read the girls the story of the night Jesus was born and had a lengthy conversation with Audrey about protocol for the morning, including, but not limited to: 1) who was in charge of waking whom in every conceivable combination of scenarios 2) Which doors John and I were to keep closed, so's not to disturb the big guy, and most importantly, 3) That if either John or I saw Santa in the house, we were to immediately return to bed and not disturb him. 

With my orders thoroughly understood, I tucked my girls up in bed, likewise, with orders for dreams of sugarplums and flying reindeer.

I'm sorry to say that John and I totally disobeyed Audrey's orders.  We were up into the wee hours, watching It's a Wonderful Life and putting together the completely ludicrously enormous doll house that had been, until then, sitting in it's packaging in my closet for months.  It took us three hours (with some serious teamwork) to get that thing together.  But as we flopped, exhausted into bed after eating Santa's cookies, trimming the tree with candy canes, hiding the dollhouse from view and loading the floor around the tree with presents, we realized: this is the first year we've done Christmas.  Just us.  We pulled Santa duty all on our own.  It was hard work and it felt good to know that we were doing it right...if only for this moment--this year.  We were doing right by our girls and carrying on a magical tradition.

Trimming the Tree, Decking the Halls and Other Holiday Shenanigans

I think it’s safe to say that we officially dove into our Christmas celebrations two weeks ago with the purchase of our drunken little Christmas tree and we really haven’t paused to draw breath since.  Meaning, I’ve kind of had my head out of the goings-on of the world at-large and have hunkered down to spend time with my little family.  Really—just the family--because everyone else has been sick or out of town for the holiday.  It’s been quiet and there is a deliberateness with which we spend our days.   

Ein Schönen Baum, Ja?

Two Fridays ago, I had my mind stubbornly set on a Christmas tree.  I was not going to bed without a festive evergreen gracing the corner of my living room.  And, in the end, I got what I asked for…just in the most hilarious way possible.  We bought our tree from a gent at the Karlsplatz UBahn station—August Krautwurst.  If he could’ve presented a more inebriated self, we would’ve had to scrape him off the floor.  As it was, it took us 30 seconds to select a tree and then ten minutes to convince August that we wanted to buy it.  I’m not sure if I was expected to haggle a great deal or start kicking the tree trunk and pulling at branches, but after stretching my vocabulary to the limit, trying to think of more than ten ways to say “I want to buy this tree”, all it really took was waving fifty Euros under old August’s nose for him to get the point.  His drunken brother man-handled our tree into some netting and haphazardly hammered a wooden stand to it’s base.  After a few wobbles himself, he decided it was ‘straight enough’ and we headed home, where we welcomed what is, to my mind, the most festive aspect of our family Christmas.  

Our drunken little tree leans a bit to the left—not quite perfect—just like the hodge podge ornaments gracing it’s boughs; old family ornaments collected through the years and a few new ones to mark our first Christmas in Vienna.  The girls and I spent time making paper chains and stringing popcorn and cranberries to top off our misfit little tree…now we spend a lot of time sitting on the couch together just looking.  Bailey prefers to walk around the tree touching each ornament with one finger…and I indulge her because every ornament on that tree holds a different memory for me.  I remember making some of the silly baubles hanging from the branches—or receiving them as gifts…but most of all, I remember years upon years of gazing at them hanging on my parent’s Christmas tree.  If my girls remember nothing else from Vienna, I hope this little Austrian Christmas is the thing that sticks.

cookies!!

We made sure all of our shopping for the month was done early and everything shipped to the states several weeks ago, so we’ve really been at our leisure, enjoying spending time together.  We made the mandatory trek out to the Christmas Market at Schönbrunn (tourists!! The horror!) We made brownies and snickerdoodles for Audrey’s teachers (baking things at home is apparently a rarity here) and we got to see Audrey perform at her school Christmas party.  And by “perform”, I mean, she actually did not have a pained expression on her face and she did several of the motions to accompany the songs.  This is big news!  Unfortunately, the rest of her “party” she spent glued to my side while her sister had a mental breakdown because a) I made her take off her Randy Parker winter gear after she spent thirty minutes sweating in it and b) there was a baby who was learning to walk toddling around the room. This is inexplicably horrifying for my little bear.  Why?  I cannot fathom, but she is terrified of babies becoming mobile. 

At least she's not the only kid with fingers in her mouth

Luckily, after the forced road march from Audrey’s school to the train station…after making both of the girls sit on a bench and telling them that we would skip every train that came until they BOTH stopped crying…God sent me a savior…in the form of a little child. Imagine that…only this kid’s name is Coen and I’m certain he and his mother were sent by God himself to escort us home on the train.  This cheeky little Australian boy squeezed between Audrey and me, held both of our hands and made faces at Bailey all the way home.  Audrey even planted a big old kiss on his lips when he got off the train; I’d ask him to marry her, but he’s leaving in January.  Tragic.  Luckily, little Coen turned our entire day around and we spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring things that needed to be done around the house and chose to color for hours instead. 

look at that sugar-crazed gleam in her eye!

At the Belvedere

Soon, Audrey was in full-on Christmas break and we even made it out of the house to go decorate cookies at a friend’s house (read: eat lots of candy and chase the dog).  Saturday was our first real day of vacation with John around and we made our way out to the Christmas market at the Belvedere Palace.  It was lovely—we got there early enough that the crowds hadn’t quite arrived and we basically stuffed ourselves, starting with roasted chestnuts, cheese, salami, potatoes and pickles, then moved on to strawberries dipped in (pink!) chocolate, some wurst and fries…and then more roasted nuts to top it off.  Considering I had so recently recovered from food poisoning, this was pretty ballsy in my book, but it was worth it.  We were absolutely jolly as we raced home with frozen toes to watch some Harry Potter. (I am so thrilled to have converted both girls to the fan club.)  

The Weihnachtsbim!

Later that evening, Bailey and I ditched Audrey and John and popped down to the Ring to ride the Weihnachtsbim (the Christmas tram).  We bought our tickets and received krapfen (donuts) from Santa as we boarded.  Both the exterior and interior of the tram were decked out for the holidays, there was cheesy Christmas music playing and everyone on board just seemed happy (this never happens on any other tram...maybe Vienna should try giving out donuts to increase the population's overal stick-in-the-mud demeanor).  Bailey ended up falling asleep after about two minutes, so I got to enjoy a really relaxing ride around the Ring, looking at Vienna's Christmas lights.  It was really nice.  When we got home, Bailey announced: "I saw Santa!  He gave me a donut!".  Best. Santa. Sighting. Yet.  

Overall, we’re just nauseatingly happy; so happy to be spending time together, even if it’s rainy days spent playing elaborate games of make-believe and talking about what we want to do around the city before Christmas.  A lot of people we know are leaving town for the holiday, but we’re ecstatic to be here.  This is the first Christmas we’ve made for ourselves, and while we’re certainly feeling very real pangs of loss for family traditions spent apart, we know that we’re also making something new and beautiful—that this Christmas together is holy. 

Shaking it off: Clark W. Griswold is Back!

Anyone who's been in contact with me lately knows in no uncertain terms that I have been sick *moan, whine, pout*  The thing is, I'm usually the one gloating over the rest of my sick family as they suffer, taking deep satisfaction in the knowledge that I have a superior immune system.  But immune systems don't pay much attention to migraines or food poisoning...both of which I had the pleasure of experiencing last week.  I haven't cast up my accounts with such frequency in nearly a decade.  So, what I'm trying to get around to is that between the mound of laundry I found waiting for me and Bailey's most recent decision to monopolize my person every waking moment of the day (or night), my Christmas spirit has taken something of a hit.  (Let's not even get started with the conflicting emotions I have over getting food poisoning from something at a Christmas market...the humanity!!)

So, after four days trying to regain my health, abstaining from sugar, caffeine, and alcohol and shirking chores around the house to give The Bear the attention she is so desperately craving, I cried: Enough!!  Even though the cold weather sends Bailey into screaming fits as soon as she steps out the door, we were off.  I was done trying to scrape together Christmas cheer with what was around our house when VIENNA was just one screaming toddler away.  So, I bundled Bailey up like Ralphie's little brother and we headed downtown to see Christmas.

Photo credit

I haven't done a very good job of explaining yet, but Christmas in Vienna isn't just about the nineteen Christmas markets. (Although the smell of punsch wafting through the city does add a festive feeling to the season.) For starters, it's cold. Everyone and their old bitty aunt is wearing fur--I never fully realized that this was socially acceptable, much less a status symbol until now.  As a kid, watching the oh-so-fabulous movie American Dreamer, I used to laugh at the character Rebecca Ryan until I realized THESE PEOPLE ALL LOOK LIKE THAT!!! (minus the gun...as far as I know)  So.  Fur.  Very much part of a Viennese Christmas.  Just try not to laugh--they could be armed.  

photo credit

Also, lights.  Lights everywhere; dripping chandeliers down Graben, curtains of twinkle lights above Kohlmarkt, Hooped lanterns at Am Hof...and even though they're more than lights, the enormous red balls down Rotenturmstrasse just make my heart go pitter-patter.

Bailey's favorite tree

And as if the lights and the fur, the punsch and the pony rides weren't enough to get you in the festive spirit, now the trees are FINALLY here.  I've been dying a little inside, not having our own Christmas tree yet.  Like everything else, the Viennese are very particular about their Christmas trees.  They take great pride that two-thirds of the population purchase fresh trees from over a hundred stands throughout the city.  All of these stands are supposed to carry trees exclusively from Lower Austria; there have been articles in the paper for weeks, warning people to look for tags and signs indicating a quality tree...God forbid something from Switzerland should slip into a good Viennese home.

Just know that while you all have been pulling your pre-lit trees out of the closet or taking fun road trips to a tree farm in The States, I've been sitting around looking at your happy Christmas pictures, grumbling under my breath like the Grinch.  And I'll still be grumbling until the tree stand in our neighborhood opens.  I send John daily emails with updates about where the closest open tree lots are and which co-worker he should unwittingly trap into helping him carry a tree all the way to our apartment.  (While I wait comfortably on my sofa with a kid who is not screaming from the cold.)

I hear irrationality is a side effect of sugar withdrawals.  

Randy Parker and her BFF

Where were we, now?  Oh, right.  Downtown Vienna--where there are now BLOCKS full of Christmas trees for sale.  These are not the short skimpy trees I've been seeing around neighborhoods--these are the trees that make you drool and wonder if you should advise your husband to instead enlist three unwitting coworkers to bring the suckers home. Right. Now.  As I was wandering along, eyes ogling the rows of lush green branches...and, let's be honest, trying to avoid drooling on my coat, I realized: I'm back!!  This is exactly how Clark W. Griswold would feel walking down Graben! I don't care if these things wouldn't fit in our living room (this is saying something) I want to wrestle one home and spend the next three days removing tree sap from my person.  I would've clicked my heels and high-fived a fur-coated bitty if I weren't worried I'd find myself at gunpoint.  Instead, Bailey and I stopped to give her favorite bear some loving and then popped into the Demel for some Cocoa.  If that doesn't sound like Christmas Cheer, I don't know what does.  Mostly, I'm just happy to be (yet again...) shaking off the Grinchy attitude.  Bring on the Christmas Cheer!  And the Christmas tree, for that matter.

...I'm still waiting on my couch.        

Keeping it Jolly: Celebrating St. Nick

Wow.  You guys, this was our second year celebrating Saint Nicholas Day and I'm blown away.  Let's start with the small stuff--the rituals, the things that are starting to form tradition.  For starters, the girls and I spent the afternoon before Saint Nicholas Day packing bags for our neighbors full of fruit, nuts and chocolates.  We didn't need to include a note explaining what St. Nicholas Day is all about because everyone here already celebrates it. So instead, we added a simple greeting on the outside of the bags, wishing them a happy day.  I made some belly-filling chicken pot pie for dinner and the girls got all dudded up in their jammies before we donned boots and jackets (the stairways here are freezing) and headed out to deliver our gifts.

The trick with this was trying to keep Bailey quiet; the staircases in most buildings are the stuff of dreams for a kid who likes to test acoustics and, unfortunately, there are a few concepts that my rambunctious bear refuses to accept.  I'm just glad that "stop peeing on the floor." came before "whisper, please!".  Since stealth wasn't exactly on our side, we went with speed.  Those bags were delivered to their doorstops lickety-split and we were back home for hot chocolate before we knew it.  We settled in with our cocoa and read our Saint Nicholas story (which is NOT historically accurate, but it hits the high points we're trying to get across.  Audrey will probably be really mad with me about this in a few years.)

I was actually thrilled when we thought we were wrapping the night up, but Audrey just kept the questions coming.  She is not ok with her current grasp on this whole Santa issue.  At her preschool, they're working the concept of magic Saint Nicholas--even more so the idea that you have to be good to get presents (we've never brought this up). At home we're just telling her the dude was real once, but people dress up like him to celebrate now.  Even so, she refused to go to sleep until she knew in no uncertain terms that: a) no one was coming into the house while she was sleeping. b) there are no chimneys in the apartment. c) no one would be dropping off gifts at the door. and d) that the presents she would find in her stocking were already, in fact, in the house.  I basically dropped all pretense with the kid and told her that after she went to bed I was going to go put presents in her stocking for her to find in the morning--and moreover that Santa is not real.  She seemed to finally accept that explanation--and, thus, I have officially let my four-year-old know that the Jolly guy is a myth. I'm more concerned with her sleeping at night than her future therapy bills at the moment, I suppose. 

As always, it was such giddy fun to watch the girls open their stockings in the morning.  We've gone grotesquely all-out with their Christmas gifts, so we kept things low-key with stockings this year.  They always get new jammies as well as the same gifts of fruit, etc. that we give to others.  Audrey, in particular, was excited that she got a candy cane and a rainbow lolly pop (while Bailey joyously smashed hers together until they were pulverized).  We got the girls a new movie each and threw in some headbands and fancy pink slippers to boot.  Nothing spectacular, just a sweet and happy Saint Nicholas morning.  After the girls modeled their new duds, we went on with our normal routine--there was still preschool and work and play dates to be had.

Nevertheless, our day was still filled with the joy of giving to others.  The girls had a few small things they did today that were new to our tradition.  There were some things that we just do every day to emphasize the joy of giving.  Either way, I think Saint Nicholas Day is becoming a favorite of mine. Especially since this was the first year I took on some projects of my own. For a lot of reasons I don't want to go into much detail, but I do want to state for the record that God can make a lot of really awesome things happen with seemingly little effort.  I struggled with ideas for my projects basically for the last six months and God met me here this month--and He showed me how good it is to give...especially when it's not for our own glory.  He is good.  So, I hope every day I will wake up, overflowing with His grace and love, ready to roll on that tide to make each day a Saint Nicholas Day.

Time Travel and Turkeys

Remember how I was so firmly resolved not to gloss over anything significant for my girls?  Well, feel free to label me a hypocrite for the five hundred and seventy-sixth time (I’m guesstimating)   Because our Thanksgiving was wonderful and aside from my whacked-out passionate plea to help me help people, there have mostly been crickets around these here parts.  So, let's do a bit of time travel, shall we?  Everyone call up Doc Brown and remember to buckle yourselves up tight in the Delorean when he gets there to pick you up.  

For starters, we had our thanksgiving a few days late. On the actual day you Yanks were stuffing your bellies and moaning over distended bellies, I had been alone with the girls for the fourth consecutive day (I know—we’re whiner babies) and ordered delivery pizza with some friends…which ended up being an hour late…while the children dissolved into hypoglycemic puddles because there was no room in my fridge full of defrosting turkey for things like “real food”.  It was lovely.  One for the scrapbook.  Luckily, John rode in on his white stallion the next day and we eventually held a Thanksgiving feast that would make any American proud. (There was a recording of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade playing in the background for Pete’s sake)  

As a part of the Schweighardt clan, we have become used to the festive insanity that thrity-something bodies in one place can create during the holidays and while our gathering was a bit smaller (my oven, God bless it, could never have survived the load of a Schweighardt thanksgiving) was every bit as lovely and joy-inducing as any other family holiday we’ve had.  And that says something—my people celebrate Pie Day, after all. 

On Saturday, while most of you were decorating your trees or recovering from Black Friday shopping, we had several people from John’s work over and some good friends of ours who we *shockingly* actually didn't meet through the UN were also able to join us.  In the end, my countertops were groaning from the load of delicious food and the walls were bouncing with happy conversation and raucous laughter.  The girls were spoiled beyond belief and our friend, Dave, was actually able to perform the miraculous feat of getting Audrey to voluntarily leave the sofa to play with him. Meanwhile, Bailey ran amok with her Best buddy, “Tiana” (also known by her parents as Ilana) and fell in love with anyone who tried to tickle her or hang her upside down by the ankles.   There was wine and cookies and pie...Dave and Tia donned matching aprons and did the dishes.  (I didn't want to let them leave...ever.) As the night waned, Audrey came out of her shell and asked to sit with Marcy while Bailey propped herself on the lap of Marcy’s husband, Nathan, to give him the full experience of watching football with a two-year-old ("Who's the bad guys??")  It was a top night with great people.  

 

See why I pulled out the flux capacitor to make sure that didn't get lost in the Christmas madness? I guess I did save a little respect for the Turkey after all...

p.s. photo credit for the first two pictures goes to the Ashers--also known as Tiana's parents.  They both know how to work some magic behind a camera.  

Asking for Help

If I've learned nothing else from my efforts to live simply and love others deeply, it's when I find myself in need, I often already have the resources to fill that need...It's just not conventionally sitting right in front of my nose.  Most often I see this in the contents of my kitchen--I don't actually need to go to the store for those ten things when the fifty sitting on my shelf will do quite nicely for the day.  Or even something so simple as wanting a nativity set for the girls: Don't have one?  Can't find one?  So, we made one using their dolls (and maybe three hedgehogs wearing tiaras sitting on boxes of 'pixie dust' to represent the three wise men...why we own three hedgehogs, I'll never know) But the point is, I usually find a great sense of satisfaction when I identify a need/want and realize I've already got it.  It brings such a resonating peace that I am being provided for--without even realizing it.  Provision comes in so many creative forms.  And all this has led to an overflowing of praise--a desire to help act as the hands of God to provide for others.

Now, let me be clear:  I am no philanthropist.  We don't have buckets of money to throw at people.  No one's Christmas dreams are coming through on my meager penny.  But, this month, specifically, we're trying much harder to give.  Giving is a very complicated, multi-faceted thing.  I give euros to the homeless.  I'm sure this doesn't do much more than help me feel better about myself for a few fleeting minutes.  So, until I become more comfortable starting a conversation with these people, creating relationships with them, asking them what their needs are and trying to help fill them, these are the projects I've got going.

Saint Nicholas Day is coming.  I hadn't planned to post anything about what I'm doing for it this year, other than encouraging the girls to give, but I'm overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with how relatively little I have to share.  Turns out, I'm not actually Santa.  There are individuals and families that I feel a deep-seated NEED to help...but I find myself at a loss.  This doesn't happen often; I'm the kind of gal who looks at the square peg and the round hole and says: "We can make this work."

And after praying and at least thinking about fasting...and praying some more, I've come up with: you.  There are lots of you.  Yes: YOU. People can so easily become shrouded in the anonymity the internet provides.  It is so easy to receive the information that something is needed and even easier to push back from the desk or lay down your phone and think: "That's not me."  So, let's get this out of the way:  if you're reading this...if you hold enough affection for me to check this odd little space with any regularity, if you stumbled here on a a random google search for Lou Ferrigno (this is shockingly often), or if you pop in out of boredom to help pass the work week...I'M TALKING TO YOU. 

I need your help.

A few months back I sent a general inquiry on a small group page, asking if anyone needed help or knew anyone needing help this Christmas.  Well, this started out as a few people who were struggling to make ends meet and could use a bit of a lift...and has snowballed into an affliction:  I cannot read anything or browse any media source without becoming overwhelmed by the NEED I see everywhere.  And the realization that I don't have the resources to help in the way I want is shocking.  Because I'm used to figuring out how to fit the round peg in the square hole.  I should be able to do this too.

And I’ve decided I’m not going to concede defeat and apathetically accept that some people just have crap lives.  I can do this. (read: HE can)  even if it only starts out in a small way...and YOU are going to help me.  If a general blog post doesn't work, I'm likely going to start sending out personal emails, so if you'd like to stay off the mailing list, here's the small slice:

The biggest project I've undertaken this year is for a large family in need.  It's the usual story around Christmas; kids need clothes, mom needs supplies for their home and if there were any way to get them a *want* instead of a need, they'd likely expire from shock.  I know this is not unique, but this family is weighing on my heart and I’ve (somewhat secretly) committed to helping them.

Something that has come up recently and is entirely unconnected with Christmas is a family I do know well--a family that has all their basic needs met and can feed the kids just fine.  Brittany and Josh have four amazing, vibrant, frighteningly brilliant kids.  And they want more.  They know they have been gifted with the ability to provide a loving, nurturing home and they have felt moved to lift the weight of the tragedy that befalls so many institutionalized orphans...even if it means bringing them home one at a time.  If you're unmoved by that, go read this and then come back.

But now they need help too.  Adoption is no easy process and the amount it takes to bring one of these babies into a loving home is staggering.  YOU can help.

You can go to their smarty pig account here and make a donation.  If it's only five dollars, donate it and know every penny is given to people who ask humbly and feel great depths of gratitude.  Josh and Brittany are also raffling off an iPad mini in the hopes of raising some money for a goal that needs to be met soon.  They're selling tickets for ten dollars or three for twenty-five.  Shoot them a payment on paypal at:  BrittanyHansen00@gmail.com to enter the raffle or just email Brittany (or me) and ask how you can help...she's also one of the elves helping me provide for the family I mentioned before.

Despite how distant the internet can make us feel--being able to pick up and put down other people's troubles at our leisure...these people need help.  It's not really so much, but it's more than I can do alone.  All I ask is that reading this would create some kind of action--whether you donate to one of these families or make the decision to help someone in your immediate sphere of influence. This post is a prayer that we could be witnesses to each other--to prove that in a world focused on serving ourselves first, there is a portion striving to deviate from that horrible norm.

Now go--do good.  And love each other.