A blessed Christmas Eve

Today was everything Christmas Eve should be. Baking smells filled the kitchen as Lisa made two quiches, an apple pie, and a chocolate meringue pie. She was ably assisted by Colin and Kegan who cut up apples for the pie. I got to enjoy the Christmas spirit while editing my manuscript. The recording of A Celtic Christmas played all morning—those sweet, clear voices singing not only carols but familiar winter songs. Between the smells and the music, Christmas filled the air.

Made my way through the introduction and two chapters. Editing is always intensive, but this time particularly so because I wrote the framework of the story through and then went back, plugging in bits and pieces as I came across them in boxes and boxes of research material. The result is a lot of duplication, some confusing contradictory versions of events, and

what any good English teacher would call awkward transitions. Plus the inevitable typos, But I’m pleased with what I accomplished today.

Got in my afternoon nap, cozy in Morgan’s bed with what feels like a down comforter. The bed is quite high—a bit of a trick for me to get into it. At home, Sophie jumps up on the bed when she thinks it’s time for me to get up, but I was sure she couldn’t do that here. Call me too trusting. She woke me up at 7:30 this morning by landing on top of me, and when I got out of the bed this afternoon, she quickly got in my spot. She has adjusted well to being here. She’s visited several times before, but this is the first time she has the run of the house. I am afraid Morgan will try to kidnap her when it’s time for me to go home.

This evening, Colin, Lisa, and Kegan went to be helpers at the six o’clock service at their church. Morgan stayed behind, and I half wonder if she wasn’t assigned to babysit me. But I won’t complain about that. She fed Sophie and will take her out shortly, and she poured me a glass of wine—the kitchen is up a step from the family room and bedrooms, which pretty much rules out my being self-sufficient about food and drink.

While they were at the church, I went to the five o’clock children’s service at my church in Fort Worth, thanks to Facebook. Earlier I saw pictures on Facebook of a sheep and a burro “getting ready” for the service, so I was curious to see how their role was handled. Calling it a cameo appearance is generous—they were paraded down the long center aisle and at the chancel, diverted to the side aisle and led right out of the sanctuary—no time to poop. Highlight was hearing all the familiar carols. I seem to remember singing carols in church all during December, but not this year. I heard somewhere that in some traditions carols are reserved to be sung only from Christmas Eve until Twelfth Night. So tonight, I got my fill for the first time.

For years I have struggled unsuccessfully to establish a traditional supper for Christmas Eve—sometimes when we’re all together, Brandon cooks his chili. I have tried roast beef, smorgasbord and who knows what else, but nothing sticks. I thought tonight Lisa might start her own tradition with chicken tamale stew. But it turned out they were so long at church, we had tomato basil soup and Mac’s Salad—the original from Mac’s House all those years ago. Colin bussed tables at Mac’s when he was fourteen, and the salad is a special memory for him, so it was part of my Christmas gift. I even brought the good grated Parmesan and sesame seeds to finish it.

Closing the children’s service tonight, Dr. Russ Peterman reminded that the good news of Christmas doesn’t always come when things are going smoothly. It often catches us in the darkest of times and brings us hope. I think that’s where we are as a country tonight, and I pray that those of us who celebrate the Birth of Christ and other who celebrate in their own faith can  our hearts and minds to receive the good news and feel the hope of love.

Blessings, loved ones.