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The two little cousins eating at the edge of the table. They are 9 months apart?
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The aunts and uncles played with the 3 little ones after Christmas Eve dinner.
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Opening presents Christmas morning was a lot of fun for Maddie. The little fashionista got too many clothes... but I guess that's a good thing for mom!
So- I guess it's GOODBYE 2007 and WELCOME t0 2008!!??? Does anyone else feel like it's 1996?
I hope you have been unlike me this Christmas season. I have been grumpy, grumpy, grumpy (until today). Every year, I somewhat dread December. It's very stressful to buy gifts, travel, rent cars, be 100% happy for the family, finish Christmas cards, decorate the house, attend Christmas parties etc etc. I think there is a tremendous amount of pressure out there to expect a Martha Stewart/PotteryBarn/Anthropologie/Betty Crocker/Norman Rockwell type of Christmas.
So perfect....
So happy...
And- there is a tremendous amount of pressure to buy buy buy. And, that translates to want, want, want and stress stress stress. Although it would be pretty amazing to be in Oprah's studio audience where she throws out everything that you could possibly want on her "Oprah's favorite things" episode, there is just something empty and unsatisfying about it all.
So- no wonder why I haven't been enjoying Christmas. I have been sucked in, and I put an end to it last night.
My great friend gave me a story that put me into tears yesterday. I put the story at the end of the post if you want to read it-- it is a beautiful account of Christ's birth, and immediately made me re-focus on what Christmas should really be like.
I hope all of you have a wonderful Christmas and enjoy the special and short moments you have with your family and friends.
Love, Alie and Steve
Jeffrey R. Holland, “Christmas Doesn’t Come from a Store,” Liahona, Dec 1995, 13
Part of the purpose for telling the story of Christmas is to remind us that Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Indeed, however delightful we feel about it, even as children, each year it means a little bit more. And no matter how many times we read the biblical account of that evening in Bethlehem, we always come away with a thought—or two—we haven’t had before.
There are so many lessons to be learned from the sacred account of Christ’s birth that we always hesitate to emphasize one without considering all the others. Forgive me while I do just that.
One impression which has persisted with me is that this is a story of intense poverty. I wonder if Luke did not have some special meaning when he wrote not “there was no room in the inn” but specifically that “there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7; emphasis added). We cannot be certain, but it is my guess that money could buy influence in those days as well as in our own. I think if Joseph and Mary had been people of importance or wealth, they would have found lodging even at that busy time of year.
I have wondered if the Joseph Smith Translation also was suggesting they did not know any influential people when it says there was no one to give them room in the inns (see JST, Luke 2:7).
We cannot be certain what the historian intended, but we do know these two were desperately poor. At the purification offering which the parents made after the child’s birth, a turtledove was substituted for the required lamb, a substitution the Lord had allowed in the law of Moses to ease the burden of the truly impoverished (see Lev. 12:8).
The Wise Men did come later bearing gifts, adding some splendor and wealth to this occasion. But it is important to note that they came from a distance, probably Persia, a trip of several hundred kilometers at the very least. Unless they started long before the star appeared, it is highly unlikely that they arrived on the night of the babe’s birth. Indeed, Matthew records that when they came, Jesus was a “young child” and the family was living in a “house” (Matt. 2:11).
Perhaps this provides an important distinction we should remember in our own holiday season. Maybe the purchasing and the making and the wrapping and the decorating should be separated, if only slightly, from the more quiet, personal moments when we consider the meaning of the Baby (and his birth) who prompts the giving of such gifts.
The gold, frankincense, and myrrh were humbly given and appreciatively received. And so our gifts should be, every year and always. As my wife and children can testify, no one gets more giddy about the giving and receiving of presents than I do. But for that very reason, I, like you, need to remember the very plain scene, even the poverty, of a night devoid of tinsel or wrapping or goods of this world. Only when we see that single, sacred, unadorned object of our devotion—the Babe of Bethlehem—will we know why the giving of gifts is so appropriate.
As a father, I have thought often of Joseph—that strong, silent, almost unknown man who must have been more worthy than any other mortal man to be the guiding foster father of the living Son of God. It was Joseph selected from among all men who would teach Jesus to work. It was Joseph who taught him the books of the Law. It was Joseph who, in the seclusion of the shop, helped him begin to understand who he was and ultimately what he was to become.
I was a student at Brigham Young University just finishing my first year of graduate work when our first child, a son, was born. We were very poor, though not so poor as Joseph and Mary. My wife and I were both going to school, both working, and in addition we worked as head residents in an off-campus apartment complex to help pay our rent. We drove a little Volkswagen which had a half-dead battery because we couldn’t afford a new one (Volkswagen or battery).
Nevertheless, when I realized that our own special night was coming, I believe I would have done any honorable thing in this world, and mortgaged any future, to make sure my wife had the clean sheets, the sterile utensils, the attentive nurses, and the skilled doctors who brought forth our firstborn son. If she or that child had needed special care at the finest private medical center, ! believe I would have ransomed my very life to get it.
I compare those feelings (which I have had with each succeeding child) with what Joseph must have felt as he moved through the streets of a city not his own, with not a friend or kinsman in sight, nor anyone willing to extend a helping hand. In these very last and most painful hours of her “confinement,” Mary had ridden or walked approximately 160 kilometers from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem in Judea. Surely Joseph must have wept at her silent courage. Now, alone and unnoticed, they had to descend from human company to a stable, a grotto full of animals, there to bring forth the Son of God.
I wonder what emotions Joseph might have had as he cleared away the dung and debris. I wonder if he felt the sting of tears as he hurriedly tried to find the cleanest straw and hold the animals back. I wonder if he wondered: “Could there be a more unhealthy, a more disease-ridden, a more despicable circumstance in which a child could be born? Is this a place fit for a king? Should the mother of the Son of God be asked to enter the “valley of the shadow of death” (Ps. 23:4) in such a foul and unfamiliar place as this? Is it wrong to wish her some comfort? Is it right He should be born here?”
But I am certain Joseph did not mutter and Mary did not wail. They knew a great deal and did the best they could.
Perhaps these parents knew even then that in the beginning of his mortal life, as well as in the end, this baby son born to them would have to descend beneath every human pain and disappointment. He would do so to help those who also felt they had been born without advantage.
I’ve thought of Mary, too, this most favored mortal woman in the history of the world, who as a mere child received an angel who uttered to her those words that would change the course not only of her own life but also that of all human history: “Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women” (Luke 1:28). The nature of her spirit and the depth of her preparation were revealed in a response that shows both innocence and maturity: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38).
It is here I stumble, here that I grasp for the feelings a mother has when she knows she has conceived a living soul, feels life begin and grow within her womb, and carries a child to delivery. At such times fathers stand aside and watch, but mothers feel and never forget. Again, I’ve thought of Luke’s careful phrasing about that holy night in Bethlehem:
“The days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and [she] wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and [she] laid him in a manger” (Luke 2:6–7; emphasis added).
Those brief pronouns trumpet in our ears that, second only to the child himself, Mary is the chiefest figure, the regal queen, mother of mothers—holding center stage in this grandest of all dramatic moments. And those same pronouns also trumpet that, save for her beloved husband, she was very much alone.
I have wondered if this young woman, something of a child herself, here bearing her first baby, might have wished her mother, or an aunt, or her sister, or a friend, to be near her through the labor. Surely the birth of such a son as this should command the aid and attention of every midwife in Judea! We all might wish that someone could have held her hand, cooled her brow, and when the ordeal was over, given her rest in crisp, cool linen.
But it was not to be so. With only Joseph’s inexperienced assistance, she herself brought forth her firstborn son, wrapped him in the little clothes she had knowingly brought on her journey, and perhaps laid him on a pillow of hay.
Then on both sides of the veil a heavenly host broke into song. “Glory to God in the highest,” they sang, “and on earth peace, good will toward men” (Luke 2:14). But except for heavenly witnesses, these three were alone: Joseph, Mary, and the baby to be named Jesus.
At this focal point of all human history, a point illuminated by a new star in the heavens revealed for just such a purpose, probably no other mortal watched—none but a poor young carpenter, a beautiful virgin mother, and silent stabled animals who had not the power to utter the sacredness they had seen.
Shepherds would soon arrive and, later, wise men would follow from the East. But first and forever there was just a little family, without toys or trees or tinsel. With a baby—that’s how Christmas began.
It is for this baby that we should shout in chorus: “Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the newborn King! … Mild he lays his glory by, born that man no more may die; born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth” (Hymns, 1985, number 209).
Perhaps recalling the circumstances of that gift, of his birth, of his own childhood, perhaps remembering that purity and faith and genuine humility will be required of every celestial soul, Jesus must have said many times as he looked into the eyes of children that loved him (eyes that always best saw what and who he really was), “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3).
Christmas, then, is for children—of all ages. I suppose that is why my favorite Christmas carol is a child’s song. I sing it with more emotion than any other:
Away in a manger, no crib for his bed, The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head . … I love thee, Lord Jesus; look down from the sky And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh . … Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay Close by me forever, and love me, I pray. Bless all the dear children in thy tender care, And fit us for heaven to live with thee there. (Hymns, 1985, number 206)
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What a great walker!.jpg)
She is about the cutest thing you have ever seen. She should be a model!.jpg)
I loved this shot, because I am less a traditional photograher, and more of a modern/casual one. I like taking pictures of families just playing around. They were throwing leaves up in the air- and I got a series of 6 photographs that I just adore.
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Ok- maybe he is about the cutest thing you have ever seen? I love his sweater- and he was having so much fun tumbling down a hill.
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This was their idea- and I love it. The light was great and they seemed so relaxed (which is hard of parents of two little boys).
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Maybe he is the cutest? Too many cute ones. His copper hair makes me scream- it's so great. This shoot was amazing in terms of matching his outfit with the surroundings....jpg)
A random cat? And- he sat there for the entire shoot. It was fate.
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For a kid "who never smiles says his mom," he has a pretty cute one here.
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One of my favorites. I just love her reaching for the leaves.
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Another one....
LET ME KNOW if you are interested in scheduling a shoot!!! Happy Tuesday!
I wish I could sit down with a "hair guru" and have them tell me what type of hair would look best. Do I have an oval face, a long face? And- what does that mean? I know it's vain... but it would be nice for someone to tell you that earlier on in your life, so you know what to stick with-- and not wish you could do something else....
I thought after wincing at everything else that day- she would wince at the cupcake, but boy was I wrong- and it MADE MY DAY.
A couple of days earlier, Steve made her a purple chair- and she immediately sat on it and started giggling. It was a perfect throne for her birthday.
Maddie and I spent the afternoon enjoying the Fall season. We wandered around, took pictures, picked up leaves. It was a nice relaxing afternoon.
She knows that sunglasses are supposed to be on your face- but she couldn't quite figure it out. Unfortunately, she broke my glasses after this shot, but it was worth it. It just amazes me that her little brain knows how to wear sunglasses!
She didn't always like swings, in fact she hated them. But- today, she really liked it- and it was so fun to push her.
This is the floor plan-you probably can't read anything because its too small... but I'm very excited about the prospect of more than 1 bedroom!!!
We are really into fiber cement board as the siding-- in a dark color as below-- with white trim around the windows. I think it looks elegant, and will fit into the neighborhood.
We liked this dormer (the little architectural element above the garage)-- and the idea of a white garage against the dark background of the house. I'm not sold on the "curvy" garage doors- I think we are sticking to square... we love craftsman style houses.
Okay- I could post pictures for hours... I must stop.
The only tricky part is figuring out how you're going to cook it. It always turns out the best when you "brine" it-- and I'm going to try a new recipe for tomorrow. (We are cooking two turkeys for a pre-thanksgiving dinner for the youth at church)
Last year, some of my co-workers and I deep fried the turkey- and it was pretty good-- but most importantly, it was fun to stand around the deep fryer all night waiting in anticipation for it to come out. I never saw this type of cooking before, so it was pretty cool-- and very fast.
I hope my turkey looks as good as this, but its okay if it doesn't. I still vote that stuffing is the best thing for Thanksgiving dinner. I could eat it by the pound fulls.....
