Born Is The King of Israel!

Christmas Eve began with a family gathering around the fondue pot...

...and continued with a contemplative, worshipful service at our church, complete with our quintet performing O Holy Night! That's Lauren and Susanna on violin, Mikaela on "viola" (playing a violin but transposing viola clef into the violin's range), Micah on cello, and Melanie (not in picture) on piano.

When we arrived home again, we feasted on the second fondue course--dessert! Angel food cake, strawberries, pineapple, oranges, and banannas made the melted chocolate a bit more

healthy, don't you think?
Finally, the last tradition of Christmas Eve was completed--everyone got to open one present which was, of course, brand new pajamas! This year, everyone matched in plaid (including Mama and Papa)--that's Mikaela, Melanie, Susanna, Lauren, and Micah holding Jonah.

Christmas morning!

Two families arrived around noon, and we finally got dinner on the table, despite working around the many phone calls Papa had to deal with from work. (He was on call Christmas weekend, and had to go into work once on Christmas Eve and twice on Christmas day.)

Prime rib, bleu cheese potatoes, mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus, green beans, spinach cranberry salad, Jell-O salad, a vegetable tray, rolls, and various pickles and olives gave us plenty to feast upon!

Here, two teams get down to business and compete in one of the many games we enjoyed that afternoon.

Isn't she precious? This little girl is never short of arms to hold her at our house!

Jesus' "birthday cake"--we all sang happy birthday to Him before eating our weight in dessert!

The day ended with a delightful time around the piano as we sang new and old favorites, worshipping God and thanking Him for the incredible gift that we commemorate at Christmas time--Jesus coming to earth as a babe.

I hope your Christmas was as merry as ours!

Merry Christmas From Our Family to Yours!

Our virtual Christmas letter (written by yours truly) and picture! Enjoy a blessed day with family and friends, celebrating our Lord Jesus Christ!
Christmas, 2009
I was just sitting down to write the Christmas letter when a loud pounding on the door interrupted me. Everyone else was busy, so I dashed to the front to answer it. Before me stood a wizened white-haired man, looking as antique as the clothes he was wearing. Somehow, though, I felt the odd sensation that I had seen him before.
“Hello?” I said, not sure what he wanted. “Hello!” He boomed. “I’m Ebenezer Scrooge.” My eyebrows went up, and I stared incredulously at the man, but he just grinned the widest smile I had ever seen, a smile that even stretched up to his eyes.
Somehow, not five minutes later, he was sitting down at the kitchen table, requesting tea, and chatting with me like an old friend. “So, uh, how are you, Scrooge? You must be taking it easy these days?”
“Bah, humbug! I’ve never felt better since I started helping people—since Christ changed me,” he said with conviction. “Do you know what I mean, my dear?”
I walked to the table with his tea and sat down. “Actually, I do. Mikaela and I did a piano concert in January to benefit the Caring Pregnancy Center here in Longview. We raised somewhere around $1200 for them—it was incredible to do and see God’s blessing on the whole thing!”
Scrooge smiled and said in his charming British accent, “How lovely—and such a spirit of Christmas! I wish I could have come, but I was on holiday, visiting my sister in Italy.”
“Oh, I know how that is,” I replied. “Mama and Papa went to Hawaii this year for two weeks to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary!”
“25 years! Well, Fred, my nephew, and his wife have been married for 166 years, but that’s quite remarkable for your parents! And who stayed with you while they were in Hawaii?”
I smiled, remembering. “Actually, everyone was stuck with Mikaela and I the whole time. We made it through quite well, though, and made a lifetime of memories!”
“You don’t say!” The old man said. “I’m keen to know—how are your brothers and sisters?”
“Oh—they’re doing wonderfully! Melanie was baptized this year at our church’s family camp. That was such an amazing time for her to testify to her commitment to God, and it was a wonderful moment! She’s sixteen, and a junior in high school. Susanna, the twelve year old, is as busy as ever, and this year she has really turned out to be quite the chef—she could cook and bake all day and be happy as a clam!”
“Well, where is she now?” Scrooge asked, glancing around. “I fancy a plum pudding!”
I smiled. “Oh, she’s probably off practicing violin or piano with Melanie, who plays piano too. And Micah, now he’s ten and he is really growing up this year! Camping trips with Dad, excelling at the cello, and raising chickens and goats with Susanna—he does it all! Jonah, our seven year old, just started the violin, and he is doing wonderfully with
both that and third grade! Right now, he is intently preparing for a career as a fire-fighter!”
“And how are your parents?” Scrooge asked, taking another sip of tea and grimacing, I noticed, at my American attempt.
“Actually, they are doing quite well! Papa still has his job at Weyerhaeuser, for which we are grateful! He also is an elder at our church, so he preaches about once a month. And Mama, she’s had some health problems this year that she has had to work through, but God has been good to her through all of it. She continues to home school the four younger kids.”
Scrooge nodded understandingly. “I’ve been ill some myself, but I’ve managed to beat that Ghost of Christmas Future so far. But you have not told me of you and your sister yet,” he said.
“Oh—” I paused to think. “Well, we are keeping busy with college—we’re working on doing that online—that is, over the computer, um—well, just think of it as we are doing it long-distance, okay? And we’re playing violin and piano, teaching music, and making music all the time! We have even started a blog this year, so we have had fun indulging in our love of writing, too.”
Scrooge seemed completely befuddled—the poor man had no idea what I had just said, so I hurried on. “And in June we went with a friend to Utah to receive violin teacher training so we could become registered teachers! That was a fabulous learning experience—we both loved it!”
“Wonderful, my dear, just wonderful!” Scrooge recovered, patting my hand. “Travel these days has just gone to the rubbish bin. Why, your United States is simply breathtaking!”
“I know what you mean, Scrooge!” I said. “We went camping in Winthrop, WA in August with aunts and uncles and grandparents from Papa’s side to celebrate my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary! It was a Western theme town, so every day was full of hiking, shopping, swimming (it was hot!), avoiding snakes, and taking a horseback ride down to a cowboy cookout! God’s nature was stunning!”
Scrooge smiled. “I love to hear that! I know how much fun you all must have had together!”
I nodded. “More tea, Scrooge?”
“Oh no! Please, no,” he said, glancing down at his watch. “I really must be going—it’s almost Christmas, and I still have so much to do—turkeys to buy, Christmas cards to write to some ghost friends of mine… It was lovely chatting with you, though!”
“You, too!” I said, opening the door for him. “Merry Christmas, Scrooge!” I shouted as he walked down the snowy path—we’d recently gotten an inch of snow.
“Merry Christmas,” He shouted back, and his face crinkled in another brilliant Scrooge smile. “Remember the Christ Child, who came for this despicable old sinner! And God bless us, everyone!”
I closed the door on the wintry bite, leaned against it, and remembered what I had once heard of Scrooge. “It is said of him that he knows how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive posses the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!”
Now, back to my Christmas letter…
Merry Christmas!
All our love,
Steve, Jennifer, Lauren, Mikaela, Melanie, Susanna, Micah, and Jonah

A Christmas Story

A Guest Post By Brittany

Last night, we traveled up our road and delivered cookies, Russian tea, and--to the "lucky" ones, a Christmas carol or two. ;-) We got to meet our new neighbors, who have bravely taken on a dilapidated dwelling. "What a great neighborhood!" The man exclaimed after we were all introduced. "So many people have stopped by to introduce themselves--and everyone seems so happy to see us!" We all laughed--partly because we are just glad to have someone living on that property who is not referred to with the prefix "crazy," and partly because--after 11 years of living on this road--we know exactly what he means. Please enjoy this post written in 2005 by Brittany, a neighbor down the road who is also a blogging veteran--five years (that's like a century in blog years, isn't it?) on her blog, Running Stitch!

In the fifties, we would have known everyone on our street, The Smiths, The Jones, The Whozits and The Whatchamacallems. In the year 2005 we are more likely to know the last names of the people on our blogroll than on our street and if you are like us, then you end up naming them yourselves, The Mormons, The Dog People, The Stonehouse, The Little Farm, The ones with the barky barky dogs, you get the picture.
Today however all those nameless faces came together on this DeadEnd road named after the Creek that winds through it. Around 1:30 my neighbor (The Mormons) knocked on my door. I naturally assumed she was bringing me cookies. I’m pregnant…bring me food. As soon as I saw her face I could tell she had been crying, her four year old had been missing for over twenty minutes and she was stopping by to see if he had show up here (after all we have Thomas the Tank Engine trains). I grabbed my jacket and the phone (luckily the little guy was out walking with his Grandpa) and called my mother-in-law (she lives next door) who immediately began phoning the neighbors.

Just so you know this story ends well.

This is a rural road, ours is one of the few houses actually visible from it. As my mother-in-law began phoning her neighbors of thirty years, I walked down to the StoneHouse to ask if they had seen Little Mormon boy. I’ve never talked to these neighbors before, sometimes I wave but mostly I avoid. They are the closest house to us on the road.
Immediately the two woman stopped wrapping presents, grabbed jackets and joined the growing number of people walking up and down the road. Male neighbors, whom I have never met were wading up and down the high rushing waters of the creek and my heart was in my throat.
As I walked up to the Mormon’s to report in, I saw my father in law, with my son strapped to his back, his two dogs and ours, headed my way. By this time the Mormon Wife was close to hysterics, after checking in with My father-in-law (who immediately (dogs and all) joined in the search) I headed up to the Mormon homestead to sit with their 11 month old so that Mom was free to make phonecalls.
Truthfully, I was convinced they were going to be pulling that baby out of the Creek and I couldn’t handle it. For forty five minutes I sat with the three Mormon children aged 9, 7 and 11 months in their living room, listening to Christmas music. Through the trees I could see my mother in law walking up the road, neighbors cars stopped all along the street and people combing the underbrush and outbuildings around the Mormon’s property.
And then suddenly there he was, being led up the driveway by a stranger none of us knew. He had been hiding in the neighbors garage (she was not home). His mother flew down the driveway still clutching the phone and crying.
My father in law met me at the bottom of the Mormon’s driveway looking exhausted. He had been combing the backroads with my 30+ pound toddler on his back for over and hour. As we walked home, my mother in law joined us. Neighbors dispersed, driving silently away and the sheriff’s deputies radioed in.
Emotionally drained, I felt happy. Happy that the baby was found alive, happy that I was going home to finish up last minute gifts instead of staying to comfort a neighbor. Happy that it wasn’t my son, neighbors had been searching the creek for. Happy that Christmas Eve wasn’t marred by a terrible tragedy. But mostly I was happy with humankind. Happy with the reaction of the people on my road. Happy that even though I couldn’t name many of them after two years of living on this road, my neighbors were the type of people who on Christmas Eve stopped in their rushing about to look for a little lost boy. Happy that this Dead End road, home to the People-who-have-lived-here-forever, The Renters, The ones with the Goat, Crazy Guy and his girlfriend, and the Ones with all those white cars, is where I live.
And I’m proud to call the One’s with the daycare, the Roofer, The ones who are always building on to their house and the Ones with the minature weiner dog named Hercules. My neighbors.

Merry Christmas.

Picture of our road, taken this morning by Mikaela after a brisk run. ;-)

When Children Meet Grandmas and Grandpas

It was a dark, gloomy, miserable, and rainy night...and inside a cozy, lighted building lived many elderly people. They were nice folks, but they didn't get many visitors, and they longed for some children to brighten their day. That very evening, a troop of children marched right into their home! They brought the rain, wind, mud, and noise with them, but they also brought something special: smiles and music.
The children were very nervous, but the elderly people smiled at them as much as they could to encourage them. The children had worked hard all year for their teachers, Lauren and Mikaela, to prepare their Christmas songs to share with the old people.

The students waited in anticipation. Some of them would be tinkling the ivories for the Grandmas and Grandpas, and some would be playing teensy-weensy violins, and some would be playing the biggest-one-I've-ever-seen kind of violins, which some people say are called cellos. Still others would be playing simply normal I've-seen-it-100-times kind of violins which could somehow produce extraordinary-never-before-heard sounds.

The Grandmas and Grandpas loved the music so much, they even sang along on one song!

They didn't know it, but they were attending the debut of a fabulous young violin player named Jonah. He had only been playing since July, but they were quite impressed when he performed the E string and A string concertos to perfection! And so was his teacher.

Jonah's friend, who sported a very classy hat, also made his debut with "Pop Goes the Weasel." He did the pop, and he even got the Grandmas and Grandpas to laugh!


Susanna was an old pro at this, and the elderly people paid close attention while she played.

Micah takes lessons from someone else, but the Grandmas and Grandpas would really miss seeing his humongous instrument, so he of course must play for them. And his sister should, of course, play the duet part with him so they can have a ton of fun together!

The Grandmas and Grandpas gave a great round of applause at the end of a fabulous Christmas Program that really got them in the spirit of Christmas! "Those kids sure are talented!" I'm sure they said as they watched them up on stage. Just a few minutes later, all the children had said their good-byes and, chattering merrily, skipped outside, bringing the rain, wind, mud, and noise with them. But you know what? Their smiles and music stayed in that room with the Grandmas and Grandpas, at least until next year.

A Tale of Girls and Boys

Once upon a time, there were two little girls in a loving family. Life was wonderful, except for one thing—playtime was sorely lacking. How could one dance around like Ginger Rogers if there was no masculine partner? How could one cook and cradle plastic dolls if there was no precocious, pint-sized “Daddy” to play house with? Of course, their Papa filled in when he could, but he wasn’t available for the 10 AM playtime, the 1 PM playtime, and the 3 PM playtime. Then, along came another girl—and there were three to hopscotch, swing with, pour tea for, and dress up together. Pink and ribbons and braids and dolls abounded, with nary a car or ball in sight. Then, along came another girl. And friends stoutly accused Mommy and Daddy of lying about the gender, sure that a boy must be hidden amongst those pink blankets. The three older sisters had prayed for this girl, and loved her even more when she arrived. She was practically perfect in every way, and by then, all had gotten accustomed to substituting a girl when playing house.
Still, however, they decided to go to the source—God—and pray for another baby—only this time, unlike the last time, they would specifically request a boy. Nine, spellbinding months passed, until…a boy! He had arrived. The girls dressed him in blue, held him on their shoulders as a dancing partner, and showered him with so much love that he didn’t even think to pity himself for being the youngest in a very feminine family. Occasionally, leftover bits of pink found their way onto his personage, but in general, he remained very much a mystery to his sisters—a boy, in every way possible.
Emboldened by their past successes, these perky girls went to God again, positive that their brother needed a masculine playmate. Providence dictated that another boy would indeed come. Years later, these boys come in handy to their sisters. They ask advice for dressing—which always brings a flutter to the sisters’ feminine hearts—they tease the sisters, but not too often—which keeps the sisters modest—and the brothers are always available to rescue them from dead mice, dead birds, dead bugs, or any other deceased thing.However, these boys—they’re also perplexing. Why on earth, the sisters wonder, would male children suddenly jump on top of each other and start pummeling each other—“sparring” as they call it, for fun? How does this even make sense? The sisters also cannot understand why boys insist on tucking everything in—shirts, sweaters, vests, ties, pajama tops, and the like are frequently victims despite the sisters’ attempts to enlighten their brothers about respective tucked-in events and tucked-out events. Finally, boys seem to be born with an automatic dislike for kisses, and reject their sisters' attempts to reform them.
Despite their quirks, however, these brothers make the best dance partners, stand-in daddies, and protectors a girl could ever want. The sisters are doing their very best to make their rough-and-tumble brothers into gentlemen, with both success and failure. That time when a sister and a brother approached a door to a clothing store and stood there looking at each other, with the girl hoping to encourage her brother to do the gentlemanly thing, and the brother thinking who-knows-what…that probably wasn’t so successful (especially since it was a double set of doors and the brother failed at both sets…on the way in and out)! Right after that, however, the sister took the brother out to get ice-cream…and—although she still can’t quite get a grasp on the masculine mind—she thinks he would have opened that door for her, if it hadn’t been automatic.
Then there was that time, when, walking on their road, one of the sisters explained to her littlest brother that gentlemen walk on the side nearest to the road to protect the ladies. Fascinated, he dutifully followed the right side of her personage all the way home.

These boys—these cello-playing, violin-playing, firemen-wannabe, Einstein-rivaling, soon-to-be-gentlemen boys…they’re going to make two women very happy someday. For now, though, they are making four girls extremely happy. And, as it turns out, while the girls are busy doing their womanly deeds and trying to turn their brothers into men, they don’t even realize that “their” little boys have been turning them into women all along.

First picture by Sandra Kuck

Remaining pictures by Norman Rockwell, taken from Art.com.