Christmas is Coming

Advent has begun, and for the first time in my short journey of motherhood, I have this frantic feeling that I need to be teaching more, crafting more, praying more, baking more.  Instilling more reverence and wonder and devotion.  Just generally making this time different than the rest of the year for my children, so that they'll know, with every bit of their tiny little selves that it's Christmastime.  Because it's my job to make sure that they do.

First step in that direction: setting up the Nativity scene.  As I pulled each figure out of the box and carefully unwrapped it, Andrew oohed and aahed, pointing out "Mama May" and "Baby Jees" and "Jof" and the "Wiiiiiiiise Mans" and the "donk" and the "ca-muhl" and all the rest.  He loved on Baby Jesus and then, just to get it out of the way, asked if he might be allowed to pull Baby Jesus' hair.

 And don't think that's the only time he's asked.

 Next up: trimming the tree.

 Let's just get this out there.  The tree, well...the tree is artificial. It was with great horror that I decided last year we needed an artificial, table-topper tree to keep Andrew safe and free of allergic reactions.  Oh, how I dislike an artificial tree.

But I'll tell you this...it sure was nice packing it up last year with nary a dead needle falling to the floor.  And it was even nicer pulling it right back out this year, no mess, no fuss, no cash money.  So.  It has its good points.  And I found a $1 Christmas Wreath-scented candle at Yankee Candle, and as long as I walk by and get a whiff of that piney scent every now and then, I don't miss the real thing too much.

Can you see me in there?

 Anyway, we trimmed that artificial tree, and as we did so, we talked about each ornament and who gave us the ornament and what it said or what it was and what it all meant.  And the little guy was rather taken with the whole thing.

I'd like to think John Fletcher was soaking up that delicious blend of faith and family, too.  But I can at least be certain he knows he is loved.  And the gift of Christ is the essence of love, so I think we're doing ok.

The star atop our tree is my favorite part of all.  When I was little, our family tree was always topped with a foil star, which had been crafted by my father when my parents were newlyweds.  When Jacob and I were newlyweds, he made me this one for our first Christmas tree.  I hope it lasts forever.

This morning, Andrew saw that the tree had not yet been lit.  He pulled the Bumbo (which he has now asserted is his) in front of the tree and pleaded, "yights on, Mama, yights on."  Once I'd gotten those yights on, he just sat and stared, a sweet little smile flickering across his face.

I think he's going to make my job easy.