The Aroma of Peace

My little short legs have just been a-pumping the past few days.  Everywhere I walk, it is with purpose and a task in mind. 

We had a weather event (who comes up with these phrases?) last week and The Church House was closed on Thursday afternoon and Friday.  So, last week was a short week.

Next week would be a short week, with a Monday holiday, but mine is really short.  I’m adding 2 vacation days to that to spend a few days with my absent husband who is at the _______ in _______!  (I’m not saying because people seem to hate me when I say where I’m going. )

I’ve spent all week catching up so I can get ahead, if that makes sense. 

That doesn’t even account for the fact that there was an earthquake in Haiti and The Church House is buzzing with activity regarding aid for Haiti.

It seems like the world is just out of kilter, you know? 

Oh, did I mention that I sang at a funeral on Monday and am singing at a funeral this afternoon?  Quite the bookends for my work week.

Anyway, I rushed into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee (and wouldn’t you know that I had to make it myself).  While impatiently waiting for it to drip on through and tapping my little size 6 foot and thinking of the 949 things that I needed to be doing, I took a deep breath.



I inhaled the wonderful aroma of cinnamon baking.  Today is Friday.  Every Friday morning, the children in the daycare get ½ slice of cinnamon toast for their morning snack. 

I closed my eyes and was instantly transported into a very warm kitchen, sitting as close to the radiator as I could get, reading a book out loud to my Mother, who was at the kitchen sink.  Snow was blowing outside the window, but it was so cozy and safe in that kitchen.  Mother would help me with whatever word I might be struggling with, without even looking - which I always thought was some sort of magic. (Several years later, as I practiced the piano, she could walk through and look at me and say, "B flat, Molli".  I didn’t figure out how she could do that, either, until my own was practicing the piano.  Then, I knew.)

Many, many cold afternoons of my childhood, and there were more than a few - we lived in Iowa and Missouri when I was a child - were spent in the kitchen with my dear Mother, sipping hot tea and eating cinnamon toast.  The aroma of cinnamon toast brings me a sense of safety, of comfort, of knowing that Daddy would be coming home and that everything really was going to be okay.

And, you know what?  When I opened my eyes and found that I was still in a world that has seemingly gone completely mad, I felt the sweetest peace.  As long as there is cinnamon toast to be made and children to eat it, as long as there are so many people who genuinely care about the victims of poverty and disaster, as long as I trust that God is in control and know that He will meet my needs…everything really is going to be all right.  Even if I don’t know or can’t grasp those things, it really is going to be okay.

Sometimes, it just takes the right aroma to make me remember.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for the gift of music that seems to comfort those who are mourning, for the outpouring of compassion and giving that I have seen first-hand this week, for allowing me to go to _______ to see my Rocket Man and for a so many wonderful fragrances in Your world and our ability to inhale them and find peace.

‘Tis Done. Its Over. I am Finished!

I looked at the beautiful lights on the sweet Christmas tree that I swiped and unplugged them this morning. I’m not tired of it yet, but think I ought to turn it off and take it down before I am tired of it.

Same with most of the other decorations. Putting them away is such a hateful task. This year, however, I am determined to do it cheerfully. No whining. No putting it off until the Super Bowl (not a joke…I’ve gotten away with that one before). It’s coming down. Like a K-Mart flashing Blue Light Special…everything must go!

I have never understood the rush in which some folks de-deck their halls. That’s okay. I don’t have to understand it. I always enjoy my Christmas decorations so much more AFTER Christmas. After the tasks of wrapping presents, baking, exchanging gifts, attending functions-after all those things are finished, I quietly and thoroughly enjoy my decorations. Some of them are ancient and are really showing their age.
There is the set of choir children that were at my Grandmother’s house. They are the tackiest things you ever saw. They have rhinestone eyes. One of them has lost its head, and the crack where it was glued back on is jagged and black. There are 3 of them and my precious Neenie bought them to represent my older brothers and me. They came with blonde hair. Neenie painted the hair on one brown, because I wasn’t blonde.

There is the tinsel star that adorned my first tree after I married and left home. It was shiny and bright in 1977. It is pretty ragged now, but it touches my heart and reminds me of a very sweet Christmas long ago and far, far away.
I have a felt stocking with just an “M” on it because ‘Mollianne’ was too long to fit. It is weary looking with age, but I hang it with a tear each year. My Neenie made it for me when I was a baby. It was my very first Christmas decoration.
I will gently wrap and put away the pickle that has been such a joke between Rocket Man and Boy Wonder. The funny gingerbread man and the clay angel that my youngest step-daughter made for me when she was in the 4th grade. My nativity set, many of the pieces were gifts from Annie. A handmade bread dough ornament that was on a gift to Jamie when he was only 4 months old. Angels from Grandma Buster’s tree. All very dear, dear friends it seems.

As I lovingly wrap all of them up and put them carefully away, I will whisper prayers for the people and places that they bring to mind. The laughter and tears of many holidays and the hope of many to come. As much as I cherish them all, it is time to put them in the red and green plastic tubs and haul them back to storage.
While I try to hold the wonder and awe of the Christ Child in my heart all year, I must move away from the manger to know the whole story. Rest well in your wrapping paper and plastic tubs, my lovely ornaments and decorations and lights. You have brightened my days and from what you represent, a great Light has been seen.

…and Easter is coming….

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!!!