Goodbye, dear ones.

Laden with happiness and tears...

Tonight, as we prepare to say goodbye to nearly half the residents of our home, I sense the most conflicted set of emotions I've ever known. For years now, we've been praying for God to clearly reveal His will for Dave and Kristen and the children, and He has answered that prayer. We rejoice over that answered prayer and over the promise the future holds for this treasured part of our family. And yet we are overwhelmed with sadness at the distance that answer will create between us. Thursday nights will never be the same...Sunday services a little smaller...science and history classes missing a second-grader...no toddler to steal my toothbrush. Okay, we won't have Cheerios on the floor or (as many) toys in my path or seven sippy cups on the deck. But something tells me that before two weeks is up I'd take those inconveniences just to have the elves back.

No, in the deepest sense I'd never hold them back. Their presence with us represented the answers to many of our prayers even during the months on end when they were begging God for the opportunity to be on their own. And now, that much-anticipated opportunity is here and I am cheering in the front row! But I'm cheering through my tears, aching already as I open my hands and release six of my favorite people to the road God has revealed. Oh, how I hate the miles! I hate it that two of my daughters and their husbands and five of my grandchildren will live on the east coast...that my best friend is on the opposite side of the country...that my ailing mother is hours away by car and can no longer travel in this direction. And though I've never been one to wish this life over, I am looking forward to an eternity without separation from those I love.

Tomorrow we will all wave as a big yellow truck carries the Slaughters and all their possessions out of our driveway. But forever, our memories of their time in our home will be some of our sweetest possessions...

One season following another....

It's been a satisfying day. There's a chill in the air and we had our annual Cookie Day today in our kitchen with ALL children and grandchildren present! It's one of those events where the prep and the cleanup take three times as long as the event itself, but that's compensated for by the smiles and the green tongues and the hugs. Now it's all been swept up, mopped up, scrubbed up, washed up...the house is (relatively) quiet again, and we have mounds of treats completely devoid of any nutritional value but chock-full of comfort and memories.

Tradition is a lovely thing (I hear the Fiddler in the background....), one that seems to weave one generation to the next as clearly as it connects this year to last. Saturday I thought about this a lot as I followed my mother's treasured sugar cookie recipe, mixing up six times the original amount. A lot of work, yes, but also a metaphor for the way the joy and the memories have increased exponentially in the nearly fifty years since I first tasted (and later helped decorate) these gems. And now, for my children and my grandchildren, nothing else tastes quite so much like Christmas.

It may be a long time before all eleven of my grandchildren are in my kitchen for a Cookie Day, but I hope they take the memories and the tradition to their own kitchens, next year and well into the millennium.

Thanks, Mom.

Grace notes

God rest ye merry gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay

Remember Christ our savior

Was born on Christmas day

To save us all from Satan's power

When we were gone astray

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

From God our heavenly father

The blessed angel came

And unto certain shepherds

Brought tidings of the same

How that in Bethlehem was born

The Son of God by name

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Fear not said the angel

Let nothing you affright

This day is born a savior

Of the pure virgin bright

To free all those who trust in him

From Satan's power and might

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

And when they came to Bethlehem

Where our dear savior lay

They found him in the manger

Where oxen feed on hay

His mother Mary kneeled down

And to the Lord did pray

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

God rest ye merry gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay

Remember Christ our savior

Was born on Christmas day

She slept on a bench.

Once again, I am mesmerized by the passionate yet measured eloquence of Peggy Noonan's piece on what it means to be a first-generation American--and what it should still mean. I would comment further, but Peggy's writing almost always leaves me with nothing else to say. Yeah, I'm a true fan of this woman who stood before presidents and said, "I think you oughta..."

A word to the wise. . .

If you haven't already done it, GET A FLU SHOT! I didn't, and I am very sorry. This year's bug is not one to mess around with...it's the nastiest thing I've ever encountered.