Angels Among Us

Kinley is not sure the Santa we saw at Manhattan's WalMart was the real Santa - her words, not mine.

"I think the real Santa might be too busy working in his workshop," Kinley told us.

The WalMart Santa was friendly enough, but he wasn't as hefty as the stereotypical version. And then, when we went to a Christmas festival just down the road at Blue Earth Plaza and saw Santa again, Kinley was even more skeptical.

"How'd he get over here so fast?" she said, as we hurried the duo past the curving line of children and parents waiting to talk to Santa and checked out the ice sculptures instead.

 

Brooke didn't offer an opinion about Santa's authenticity. But she was not going to interact without the buffer provided by Grandpa. 

Randy is hoping that it was the real guy from the North Pole and not just an imposter.

"I want a new tractor," he boldly told the man.
"What kind?" Santa's helper asked.
"Red," Randy proclaimed, clearly trying to appeal to the guy's fashion sense.

Santa looked at me and said, "Do you suppose he'll get a red tractor for Christmas?"

I looked at Santa and said, "I kind of doubt it, even though he's been pretty good this year."

At the time, I was questioning my decision to be at WalMart on a Saturday in December. When we entered the doors, there wasn't a cart available. We waited until someone leaving politely asked if we needed a cart.

And I was there with two little girls - neither of whom wanted to ride in the cart. They were willing to hold onto the cart, but that made us worthy of a "wide load" designation in a store packed with shoppers, carts and aisles with items strategically placed to entice us to buy, buy, buy!

But we were there for a specific purpose: Before we left Stafford to babysit the girls for the weekend, I'd gotten a gift tag from the Stafford Angel Tree. I asked for a little girl in the 3 to 6 age range because I wanted my experts to help me.

There were a couple of reasons for that. First, I'm notoriously decision-challenged. (Just ask my family.) Second, I thought it was a good exercise for Kinley and Brooke. On our way across town, I told the girls that we were going to shop for a little girl who, according to the gift tag, "likes reading and coloring," two activities they love, too. I told them that the tag gave us her shoe size and clothing sizes and that we'd pick out those things, too. Her parent also said, "She'll be happy with anything!" That sentiment made me even more eager for the girls to wander the toy aisles for what they thought would be the perfect toy to add to the Christmas bag.

I explained that this little girl might not get much for Christmas unless we helped out.

"Why?" my curious helpers asked.

"Well, sometimes Mommys and Daddys don't have enough money to buy toys or even new shoes," I explained. "Sometimes boys and girls don't have as much as you guys do, so it's up to us to help them out so they can have a fun Christmas, too, just like you guys will."

Earlier in the month, the girls and their Mommy had already packed shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child, a project at their church. They had found treasures small enough to pack inside a shoe box.

For the Angel Tree project, we didn't have that size restriction. The hardest part was paring down the girls' choices. In the end, they picked out light-up shoes, saying their Mommy didn't let them choose the illuminated version for themselves during their last shoe-shopping trip. They selected clothing, books, coloring book and crayons, as well as a baby doll complete with stuffed animal.

When Jill and Eric got home, Jill quizzed the girls about what they'd done. They talked about the cookie decorating and the ice sculptures at the Christmas festival. They showed their craft creations.

But then Brooke offered an explanation about shopping for another little girl. And I was amazed at how much her 3-year-old mind had retained, telling Mommy that we were helping a little girl have a good Christmas.

I usually bring a bag of library books to read when we visit the girls. This past weekend, my voice was out of commission because of a cold. But there were evidently lessons taking place anyway.

Besides the lessons about sharing and giving, Grandma learned that she still was able to get three people ready and out the door in time for an 8:30 church service. (I did let Grandpa fight a shoe selection battle while I went to change.)

Grandma also learned that it's nice to just sit in the audience and enjoy the show at a church Christmas program. (I was in charge of the Stafford UMC Christmas musicals and programs for a lot of years, so I appreciate all the work behind the scenes.)

And, if I get discouraged about my lack of progress in decorating and baking for Christmas because I'm still fighting this silly cold, I'll just watch the video of Brooke and her preschool buddies rehearsing their big moment in the church Christmas program. And I'll remember her sweet little voice telling her Mommy that we were helping another little girl have a good Christmas.

That's what it's all about anyway.


Brooke's Away in a Manger from Kim Fritzemeier on Vimeo.

Easter Then and Now

"In my Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it.

You'll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade."

Easter 1963: We either didn't have new bonnets or we didn't wear them in the after-church shot at my Grandma/pa Neelly's house.

But it does show our Easter finery. My mom made our Easter dresses every year. Usually, she used the same pattern for my two sisters and me, and we each got a different color of the same fabric.

Brother Kent didn't get a matching tie for his first Easter back in 1967. We usually didn't wear hats except at Easter. I certainly can recall the choking grip of the elasticized band around my chubby neck. We may have begged to leave them off for the photo.

However, my memories didn't keep me from making my daughter wear an Easter bonnet (at least until she was old enough to protest!)

(Easter 1988)

The tradition for frilly dresses, white patent leather shoes and ruffled socks continued. I've always loved this photo. Brother and sister love and cleaned up kids ... what's not to like?

When our kids were little, we started an Easter egg tree tradition. We blew out eggs and decorated them. I've been storing them in egg cartons ever since, and each year, I enjoy remembering the fun we had decorating eggs. I got some of them out this year, though I didn't decorate the Easter egg tree, since we won't have guests for Easter.

 

When we stopped by Topeka last weekend, I got to watch as Kinley decorated her own blown-out Easter eggs. Strategically, the Easter egg dyeing was planned during Brooke's naptime. Brooke and fragile Easter eggs don't mix. Brooke and food dye don't mix. Maybe next year!

Kinley was fascinated, watching the food dye dissolve in the water.

Coloring eggs is serious business.

Even though Brooke was not invited to the egg decorating party, she did get to meet the bunnies and chicks at Orscheln's. 

Brooke will be glad to inform anyone that bunnies go "Hop, hop, hop!" She also does a good baby chick imitation. 

I hope the Easter bunny hops to your house this weekend! Happy Easter!

***

I debated about posting this lighthearted Easter message today on Good Friday, the most solemn day of the Christian year. However, even on this day of betrayal and sacrifice, we look forward to the Good News. For a more introspective look at Good Friday, check out these previous blog posts:

 The Jesus Tree

Light in Darkness

Goodbye, Old Friend

A Two-for-One Celebration

For my parents, holidays and birthdays are intertwined. My Mom's birthday is Christmas Eve, so our family Christmas celebration has always included birthday cake and homemade ice cream.

My Dad was born on April Fool's Day 1934. That year, Easter also fell on April 1. Yesterday, we celebrated Dad's 79th birthday a day early. April Fool's Day and Easter don't often coincide. Easter Sunday will next fall on April 1 in 2018. Easter Sunday has previously fallen on April 1 in 1714, 1725, 1736, 1804, 1866, 1877, 1888, 1923, 1934, 1945 and 1956. (Just a little trivia for you!)

Easter 1967 (Me on the couch with Kent, Darci & Lisa in front)

In 1967, the first Easter when our family of all girls grew to include a boy, Easter fell on March 26. I don't remember whether we celebrated Dad's birthday. With all those smart phones in the room yesterday, you'd think we would have been smart enough to re-enact the photo and get a 2013 version. Instead, my niece, Madi, (the youngest grandchild) shared the camera frame with the birthday boy. (It made for a prettier picture anyway!)

 

Back in 1988, we also celebrated Dad's birthday and Easter at the same time, even though the two days weren't a perfect match on the calendar.

Blake, Paige & Jill

In 1988, only three of the seven grandchildren were there to help celebrate. We're now adding the next generation - with five great-grands. This year, all of them celebrated Easter at the in-laws.

There weren't any Easter egg hunts at my folks' house this year.

Blake, Jill & Paige in the back. Abby, Brian and Brent in the front. Madison had yet to appear. That's our yard, not my folks. Theirs looks much better.

Brian, Abby & Brent examining their loot at a long-ago Easter.

Even though it's not the same, phones and Facebook helped us get a glimpse of Kinley's Easter - the first one where she could actually hunt for eggs.

Hannah, 14 months, and Kinley, 15 months - Cousins at Easter - Photo from Alan Ladd's Facebook page.

Jill says she caught on rather quickly. Jill showed her the first egg and how to put it in the sack. That's all it took. Kinley and her cousin Hannah searched for eggs filled with Ritz Bits and Teddy Grahams.

Kinley & Grandpa Alan - Photo by Jill

I look forward to seeing Kinley (and her parents, of course) next weekend. We just might have to continue another family tradition. Randy's Mom hid eggs long after the rest of the Easter decor was packed away for the year. They didn't have to have anything in them. They just enjoyed the hunt.

It's better than hunting for those imaginary squirrels outside the kitchen window on April Fool's Day. Weren't we clever to think that Mom would fall for that one, year after year?

Happy Birthday! I'm blessed to call you Dad!

Keeping Christmas

Decking the halls always seems to be such a big job. Though I love the end result, I dread the mess of pulling the plastic tubs of Christmas decorations from their hiding place in the basement storage room.

And, for a few days now, I've dreaded taking them all down. It doesn't have a thing to do with the mess or the work.

I waited a few days to do it. I know there are organized people who promptly pull out their Christmas decor the day after Thanksgiving and then pack it away on the day after Christmas.

But I'm not one of those people.

After several weeks of twinkling lights decorating the living room, I'm never quite ready to give up the multicolored dreamland.

Even as a kid, I remember the letdown after Christmas. It didn't have anything to do with whether I'd gotten everything on my wish list. It was just that slight feeling of melancholy, a sadness at saying goodbye to that "hap-happiest season of all," as the song goes.

It's the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle-belling
And everyone telling you
Be of good cheer
It's the most wonderful time of the year

It's the hap-happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings
And great happy meetings
When friends come to call
It's the hap-happiest season of all

It's the most wonderful time of the year
There be much mistletoe-ing
And hearts will be glowing
When loved ones are near
It's the most wonderful time of the year.

So, as I pack away the Christmas angel tree topper ...

and say goodbye once again to the Santa who counts down the days to Christmas Eve, I need to remember not to let go of the spirit of Christmas.

Even if I must take down the twinkle of lights in my living room, I can let the Light of the World continue to shine in my heart, mind and soul as we enter a new year.

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Isaiah 9:6

Hallelujah!

Deck the Halls

Nestled there in the bubble wrap were years of memories. And I didn't even have to have a series of nightmares like poor Ebenezer Scrooge to unwrap them.

Once I got the six tubs of Christmas decorations toted upstairs, it was like Christmas came early as I opened the ornament boxes and hung each one on the tree for another year.

I know the household organization gurus all say you don't need "things" to have the memories. And while I agree, it's kind of like visual "Post It" notes, a way to jog memories from a lifetime.

That's why my Christmas tree is not like the designer trees on HGTV this time of year ... no matching balls, no coordinated ornaments, no color theme.

Instead, it's filled with a haphazard jumble of memories.

This is the oldest ornament on the tree. My Grandma Leonard made them for each of us, and they used to hang on our tree at home.

When she died, each of us chose one of these bejeweled balls that she made. I inherited her lefthandedness, but I certainly didn't inherit the craft gene.

My parents began a tradition when their grandchildren were born. Until the kids graduated from high school, they received a new ornament to hang on the tree each year.

After Christmas two years ago, I packed Jill's ornaments up in a plastic tub and later packed them in a trailer for her move to Omaha. It was my parents' intention for the grandkids to have a start on their own holiday trees and traditions.

Last year, as I unwrapped the ornaments, I kind of grieved that I was no longer seeing Jill's ornaments. I know they were hers, but they were such a central part of our tree, too. I missed the ornaments that were hers - the girl talking on the phone and the girl with the shopping bags and all the others.

When I pulled Brent's K-State football player from the plastic wrap again this year, it took me a minute to remember that the K-State cheerleader now lives in Omaha.

Someday, Brent's Teenage Mutant Ninja shell and his golfing Santa and Santa's pickup truck and the Crayola crayon sled and all the others will all be decorating a different tree.

But for now, until he's ready, they still find a place on the County Line.

It's not as though my tree will be bare. I have collected my fair share of ornaments over the years, too.

Some of my favorites are the photo ornaments, the ones that reveal the stages of Jill and Brent's lives as surely as the height marker in the dining room.


When we go on vacation, we always bring home an ornament to hang on the tree. There's a new one from our visit to Mount Rushmore this year, along with a memory from our 26th wedding anniversary trip to San Francisco.

And there are reminders all around of my mother-in-law. From the Santa who guards the fireplace ...

to the ceramic nativity scene on the dining room buffet ...

to angels on the Christmas tree ...

to the Santas that decorate the tabletops ...

to the stockings she made with the kids ...

her love of crafts and sharing them is reflected in pretty much every corner.

No, I don't need the "stuff" to remember. But I do appreciate finding memories in the twinkling lights around every corner this time of year.