Merry Christmas!

Not the Same

Ok. I have it. A bad case. Practically incurable. It’s Christmas Fever. Very common this time of year. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had it this bad before. I don’t remember the little details of the Christmas season bringing me this much joy before. The decorations are prettier, the town square twinkles brighter, and the songs sound sweeter! I even put up my very first adult Christmas tree! It’s a four foot tall white tree with white lights and black and red balls on it. A smile leaps upon my face every time I look at it. I might have even told it goodnight last night when I unplugged it.

So why do I have such a bad case this year? Beats me. I’m not going anywhere different for Christmas. Just going to mom’s house like usual. I’m not expecting any kind of amazing gifts this year. I don’t have obscene amounts of money in which to lavish my children with extraordinary gifts. We keep it simple. I haven’t lost anyone, we’re not gaining anyone. There is nothing new this Christmas.

Except maybe there is. Maybe I’m not the same person I was last Christmas. Maybe I’m the something new. Maybe knowing that I can get my son everything he asked for this year is different. Maybe knowing that I can surprise my other son with my newfound knowledge of what is cool this year is new. (I am SO not cool. I learned where to find good advice.) Maybe my own joy in doing something I love has changed Christmas for me this year. Maybe my heart has been changed this year. I’ve got through a lot in the past year. Seems like I do every year. But I really do feel like the Grinch whose heart has grown three sizes! I always thought that I had a big heart that was capable of loving anything, but Christmas just wasn’t at the top of my list.

And now it is! And it’s not the presents, or the songs, or the movies, or decorations, or where I’ll be. It’s as simple as the Lord reaching down and placing his hand on my heart with the message that Christmas is important. It is important for me to walk around with joy in my heart. It is important to have a smile on my face. It is very important that everything I do this season reflect my love of God and his Son. I know all of this. I always have. But sometimes it’s hard to show it. Sometimes me is more important than Him.

But not this Christmas. This Christmas my spirit will reflect His glory. I will be a joyful happy follower of Christ. I will show others just exactly what makes me so happy. I will be faithful to my God. And my challenge is to not do this for Christmas only, but for the rest of my days!

My Favorite Christmas Memory

{Written by Mollianne Eckart. MJ is the daughter of Linda, Charlotte's younger daughter & Mollianne's sister. Thank you, MJ, for sharing this memory with us!!}

Though I have many Christmas memories, there is one I remember very well. Before we moved to Texas, my mom, dad, sisters, and I would take the beautiful drive up the mountain to my Meme and Pappy's house. I knew we were very close to their house when we drove through the tunnel of aspens that surrounded the only road to reach the house. I enjoyed seeing my dad's side of the family, and even though we aren't blood related, you would never have been able to tell. The McCormack family has considered us as McCormacks for as long as I can remember. We aren't guests at their house, we are family.

We would step out of our car and be greeted at the door, by whoever saw us drive up first or hear our knock on the door. This most often was Meme and Pappy. We would go through the usual greetings of hugs and smiles. It was always exciting to see my Aunt Kellie, Uncle Sean & Aunt Leslie, Uncle Mike & Trish, Uncle Kevin & Aunt Amy, and even sometimes Christopher.

But there was one Christmas that I remember very clearly. It's not a joyful memory, just one I look back on and laugh because it seemed like such a "me" thing to do.

Leading up to Christmas Eve, when we go to the McCormack's, my mom had me and my sisters practicing the song "The Night Before Christmas" on her Amy Grant CD. Every time we got in the car, we practiced. When we were at home, we practiced. Just me, BobbieJo, and Sami, singing along to the music. We were going to sing it in front of everyone on Christmas Eve.

Well, it was Christmas Eve, and everything was going as usual. We had eaten one of Meme's delicious meals, and we had just finished opening presents (which we always did on Christmas Eve, then we had stockings on Christmas). And then, it was showtime, what me and my sisters had been practicing for. We were standing in front of everyone at the house, about to begin the song. Well me, being the shy little girl I was, wasn't too fond of having to stand in front of everyone and sing. Suddenly, I started to cry and cry. I told my mom I didn't want to do it anymore. In a sympathetic voice she asked, "We have been practicing forever, why are you scared?" I shrugged, and then she told me to go sit with my dad.

Again, I have no idea why I remember this so well, haha, but it makes me laugh every once in a while.

I know my story wasn't anything near Aunt Mollianne's, or my Munner's, but I thought this blog deal was cool and wanted to participate.

I love you all, and love reading all the stories(:

-Mollianne Jordan Eckart

"MJ"

Wanna Know a Secret?

{Meet Paulee ... Beth's younger daughter. She's absolutely enchanting and has a wonderful secret to share with everyone today!! Enjoy!!}

Want to know a secret? You can't tell.

I like cookies.

I like Granny Sue's cookies.

I want to tell you how to make cookies. Momma said no. They are a secret. I said "Don't tell me no!" And I'm going to tell you anyway. But don't tell Mommy. She'll spank me. Then I'll be mad. And have to yell at her, "Don't pank ME!" Then I'll have to go sit on my bed. And when I sit on my bed I scream. And cry. But Mommy won't come get me 'til I don't scream anymore. Then I can get down. But I'll still be mad.

So don't tell.

I found Jeffie Jean making cookies with Granny Sue and Gwynn.
She looks just like me. And she was messy!

{the next three pictures are from Christmas 2002}

I got to roll out the cookie dough. I don't get messy.

Terry helped too.

I like to lick the spoon.

So does Anderson. Doesn't Daddy have a BIG spoon?
(He likes the dough the most!)

Remember this is OUR secret!


Granny Sue's Christmas Sugar Cookies

Cookies

1/2 cup margarine

1 tsp vanilla

3/4 cup sugar

2 eggs

2 cups flour

Frosting
1 tsp margarine (softened)
Approx. 1/3 bag powdered sugar
Add milk to desired consistency (I like it like a this syrup)

Cream margarine and add the vanilla. Gradually add the sugar until fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. Add in flour until it is well blended. Chill the dough for several hours, or even overnight. Roll chilled dough 1/4 to 1/8 inch thick on a floured surface. Cut into desired shapes. Bake at 375* for 10 minutes. Do not let edges brown. Remove immediately to racks to cool. Frost when completely cool.

My Favorite Christmas Memory

{Casiday is going to introduce this post ... written by her "twin cousin" Jeffie ... they were born exactly one week apart in February 2000. }

Every year that I can remember, we pack up at night, and leave at ten o'clock and we drive to Granny Sue and Papa's house. We get there at seven o'clock sometimes just in time for breakfast.

When I first learned how to stand, I helped Granny Sue make sugar cookies, and every Christmas since then. My favorite part is getting messy with the flour! My favorite is the star shaped ones. Last year at Christmas, we took Gwynn back home to Missouri. I got lotion, body wash, a notebook pack and some cards from Granny Sue and Papa. Oh, and we saw Big Mama and Big Daddy too! The best part was making more sugar cookies with Granny Sue and Big Mama too.

And I can't wait to get there this year and make them again with my Granny Sue and this time with my little sister, Paulee too! Paulee's going to have fun getting flour all over the place!!!

Happy Birthday, Sweet Daddy!

Today, December 16, marks the 79th anniversary of the birth of My Sweet Daddy. I have already told you that I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Daddy’s Girls, so this day is very special to me. I love my Sweet Daddy for many reasons and in many ways. We share a very special relationship, and I can only hope and pray that you share a similar relationship with your Daddy.


My earliest memories are of My Sweet Daddy. He rocked me to sleep when I was little…and even when I thought I was pretty big. Until I started school, he would rock me after lunch in a big green rocking chair as I fell asleep for my nap. He sang to me Liza Jane and I Love Little Willie are two I remember, as well as hymns. He sang I Know Whom I Have Believed when I was afraid of storms and hold me close to his chest, where I heard his heart beating and felt safe and warm.


Daddy was a history major and he taught me American History by telling me stories. All in the first person, I might add. When he taught me about George Washington, he would say “George and I.” He might say, “When Lewis and Clark and I went west to the Pacific….” I believed that My Sweet Daddy held the paper for the signers of the Declaration of Independence, walked with Johnny Appleseed planting trees, helped Davy Crockett load and re-load at the Alamo and cooked the first Thanksgiving Feast at Plymouth. I really did. Imagine my dismay when my kindergarten teacher told me that he didn’t REALLY do those things. My grief was akin to that of a child who learns that Santa doesn’t really have a sleigh that flies.

As I grew, My Daddy had not only my heart and my love, but also my respect and admiration. He is a man of God, a man of integrity and a man of principles. His word is his honor. He was often…okay he was always firm with us. But I have never once doubted that he loved me. Never have, never will.

He wrote letters to me when I left home. Every Monday for years and years. Long before the age of email and instant access, I looked forward to the mailman at the end of the week. Very few weeks went by that I didn’t have a letter from my Daddy, full of news about the family and the church. What I treasured about those letters was not necessarily the news, but the assurance that life was going on and no matter where I was…home was still there.

My Daddy has a rare intellect and is one of the smartest people I have ever known. Not only book smart, although he is that in spades, but he also possesses a common sense that is rare in our culture today. He continued to quietly encourage me as I plodded and plodded toward my college degree. What an honor it was for me at the age of 45…just a few days short of my 46^th birthday, to have My Daddy and Mother (as well as my husband, both my children, my daughter-in-law and my grandsons) in the seats as they called my name and I walked across the stage to receive my Bachelors Degree. Showing my diploma to him and having him look at me and tell me how proud he was of me is one of the highlights of my adult life. My graduation honors were not quite as high as his…no adjectives before the Cum Laude, however the greatest graduation honor for me was his very evident pride.

I get up every morning with the assurance that My Sweet Daddy will pray for me, probably before the morning is through. He joyfully shares with me the good things that happen, and shares my sorrows when things don’t go so well. Recently when I had surgery, he sat by my side...day after day. We watched old westerns together. It was such a comfort to wake up and have him there close by.

So, on this day in the midst of Christmas preparations, I want to celebrate another birtht That of My Sweet Daddy. I am so thankful that God gave us to each other. Daddy, you have nurtured me, taught me, loved me, teased me, disciplined me, comforted me and loved me. I love you, My Sweet Daddy. Happy Birthday to You!

Finding a Treasure

{Today's post is by sweet Beth, my sister-in-law. This week you'll meet both of her daughters ... the three of them survive in a home with SIX males. Yep, Heath & Beth have seven children and each one is absolutely precious!! Anyway, Beth is an amazing sister/friend and I adore her. In addition she can sew absolutely anything. She blogs at Sew Anyhow and everyone should read her blog! Thanks, Beth, for being the sister I longed for all my life! I love you!! ~ Teri Lynne}

When Heath and I got married, we were given a journaling book about your family's Christmas. One of the entries was to be about Christmas traditions. I honestly just stared at the page. Heath and I didn't have any traditions yet, and my family didn't either. I asked Heath, and he looked about as blank as me. Nope. We apparently were non-traditionalist. That is SO far from what I thought. I thought everything I did was buried in tradition, history, and the age old "this is how we've ALWAYS done it".

But then over the next month (We were married the second of November. On my grandparents 50th anniversary. Talk about traditions and family ties!), we began to talk about Christmas and we discovered my Christmases were really steeped in tradition. Every year since 1977 (the year I was born) we traveled up to the afore mentioned Grandparents' farm to have an entire Christmas celebration on Christmas Eve. My Grandma would have cooked everything under the sun, Grandpa would teach me some new way to play with my food (ever seen a toddler eating black olives? They make the BEST finger caps, and are great to suck right off!), my Uncle Terry was at my brother's and my beck and call, playing anything we wanted, and my Great-Grandmother would regale us with stories. It was always a surprise as to what tree my Grandma would put up each year. Sometimes it was white, once it was silver, and then there were years it was a real tree. One year, Thomas and I got to stomp through the pastures for hours to help cut one down! The ceramic nativity Grandma made would be in it's place on the half wall bar, and Grandpa would save me a seat right next to him in his recliner (it was always a joke to see if we fit!) We would open presents that evening, take baths, and wear Grandpa's t-shirts home.

Once home we snuggled into bed, and were sworn to NOT get Mom and Dad up before a certain time. No alarm clocks were aloud, and we spent a good portion of the next two hours giggling, being hushed, and finally threatened before we settled down. The next morning Thomas and I would sneak into one or the others room, check the time, "quietly" wait for the clock to strike the hour, and then sing to wake up my parents at the top of our lungs. Of course they had been up for a while, but we didn't know. Present time again, and then came the biggest tradition of them all. Daddy went into the kitchen to make our Christmas breakfast. I'm not sure how or why this got started, but it is a big deal! Daddy made us pancakes. Completely from scratch. The only pancake I will eat. And oh are they good.

The afternoon was always spent at my Dad's childhood home, with his parents, and siblings. And all the cousins. And of course there was the huge Christmas dinner. With a turkey AND a ham. 'Cause I don't like turkey. And we had to wait FOREVER before it was all cleaned up and we could open presents. And we would stay until all of us little ones fell asleep, full of food, joy, and family.

This was how we still did Christmas when Heath and I married. And he and his family was gracious enough to let us continue in these traditions. But then the year came when Heath wanted to be HOME for Christmas. Not just during Christmas week, but Christmas day. I really couldn't complain. We had been married for three years, and he had let me cling to my family. So this year we packed up our one year old, and drove for 10 hours to spend the week with Terry and Sue. Heath was so content, and I was SO pregnant! JJ would be born in just two months, and I was in full waddle. And minus the one phone call I made on Christmas day to shout "Merry Christmas" to all the family on Christmas day, it was a completely sad free trip. We laughed over a grandson and his Papa. I found that Sue's couch was a wonderful place to take naps. Grandparents got to watch their unborn granddaughter jump and kick. And I got to share my family tradition with the Busters. Pancakes on Christmas morning. And we started a new tradition as well. But even though that was the year it started, it's not my story to tell. You'll have to wait a day or two for that one.

So don't misunderstand me. While this was a hard first for me, it is one I cherish as well. I love every minute I get to spend with Heath's family. Sometimes, there can be little bit of sadness with it, just because of things missed. I think that is how it goes with most people as well. Twinges of sadness over Christmases past, family that has gone home, ones that couldn't make it that year. But that's how it was the very first Christmas as well. There was a sadness at a Son that was not home, and a sadness over the time to come. But oh the joy over the birth of the King. The shout of angels as they proclaimed the fulfillment of prophesy. The Messiah has come. And no matter where your Christmas is spent, that is still the Joy that is heard, felt, and shared.
So this Christmas, I share with you my Christmas treasure. Pancakes may not seem a treasure to most, but those made with my Daddy's hands, and out of his love for us, are priceless to me.

Daddy's Christmas Morning Pancakes

1 egg (seperate whites from yolks)
1 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt

Mix dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.

Separate egg whites from the yolks. Beat the whites until fluffy and soft peaks form.

Add approximately 3/4 of the buttermilk to the dry ingredients and then add teh oil and egg yolks.

Stir the mixture, adding enough buttermilk to obtain a semi-runny texture (this usually requires adding more buttermilk than listed for me). Should the mixture become too runny, add enough flour to correct the texture.

Fold in whipped egg whites.

Wipe a slight amount of oil on the griddle (or pan) and cook over medium heat until upper side of the cooking pancakes begin to break the bubbles that have formed. Flip and finish cooking the pancakes through.

Makes approximately ten 4" pancakes. (I triple this for my family. But we are huge. And the kids eat like they may never eat again. But growing up with just the four of us, Daddy would usually double the recipe. You just can't help grabbing one everytime you walk past the plate!)

Enjoy!