For Christmas, Ethan received a micro gameboy from his father. Because of Ethan's disabilities, he really doesn't understand playing video games. The miniature size of this one makes even pushing the buttons difficult. It is a mere 3 inches. I tried to take a picture of Ethan playing it, but only got a blur. Hilary was text messaging on her phone and this was Ethan standing next to her "playing" his game. After pushing the buttons, he put it up to his ear and started talking. We laughed and laughed. I guess it works as a cell phone too.

For a couple of weeks, I contemplated what I could do for my sister's birthday. If I lived in the same city it would be easy. We'd go to lunch, I'd bake her a German Chocolate Cake. Laurie loves to shop, so we'd no doubt visit the mall. It would be a grand time. Then I'd watch her boys so she and her hubby could have a night out. So how do I celebrate from another state?

By Monday, I decided I was sending a card. I couldn't actually send it on that day, as her birthday wasn't until Friday. I'd mail it Tuesday and hopefully it would arrive on the proper day and when the confetti fell out of the card it would feel just a tiny festive. (I'm not sure why I couldn't actually BUY the card before Tuesday. I really need to rethink my silliness.)

Sometime on Tuesday I realized I needed to get my act together, if I was going to celebrate in some fashion. That is, until it hit me that it was not Tuesday but Wednesday. Ugh! How did that happen? There was a slim-to-none chance that the card would actually arrive on Friday. I was going to have to order flowers or balloons. But Laurie is a flight attendant and works weekends. By the time she came home the flowers would be wilty and balloons deflated sadly on the ground. Sigh. I didn't do anything.

Friday morning I woke up early. Before I was even out of bed, I remembered it was my little sister's birthday. For just a second I thought about how fun it would have been to just hop on a plane and eat cake and laugh for hours on end. Around 10, I called to wish her a Happy Birthday. I told my sad tale of my pathetic attempts to celebrate and how I wished I could just be with her. I asked her how she planned to enjoy her day. She was having a party that night. Mom was making enchiladas. My other sister, my brother, nieces, nephews and such were coming over. "Why don't you just come down?"

Because she works for the airlines, she can share some of her flight benefits. That is the luxury of flying standby for a very cheap price. She had a pass. The new ones were electronic. The arrangements could be made online. Could I make the 2:57 p.m. flight? Oh my! Michael and I had an errand to run that would take an hour and a half. Yes, I could do it. (Okay, maybe it wasn't really that easy.) I could hear the exuberance in her voice. She began making plans out loud and telling of the fun we'd have. How exciting it would be to share our little secret with everyone when I walked in to the party. She was elated.

I amazed even myself when my bag was packed and we were walking out the door to the airport. I hadn't even told my kids. I text messaged each of them, then texted Christopher. I asked him how he'd like to go to a party with me that night. "What? Are you flying into town???" He was incredulous. I assured him I was and he made plans to meet me there. This birthday celebrations was going to be huge. My mom & dad would be so happy to see me. Could it get any better?

Michael reminded me that although I was looking forward to having a grand time, disguised in my sister's birthday, that it was at a cost. Others would have to sacrifice in order to make this work. He was right. I felt like I was abandoning my other children and him. I was shirking my responsibilities. This was very impractical. But at that moment I didn't want to be practical or responsible. I wanted to be spontaneous, to enjoy the thrill of jetting off to a party. The wind went out of my sails.

I said good-bye, as he got my suitcase out of the car. We embraced and off I went. The security line was long. I felt a bit tense. Maybe when I was on the plane I could feel the party mood again.

At the gate I phoned my sister to let her know I'd be there in just a couple of hours. She chattered enthusiastically. When they began boarding the plane, I told her I needed to hang up. I waited impatiently. I stood near the counter as they called each section to embark. What was taking so long? I didn't have a confirmed seat yet. The announcement came. The plane was full. No one else would be getting on the plane. An earlier flight had been canceled making the rest of the evening an impossibility. Sigh.

I phoned Michael, who was already at home. He drove the half hour back to get me, and it took us over an hour to get home. It wasn't meant to be. I guess it really was a unrealistic & impractical.

Wordless Wednesday

Snow Dog

Seasons Poll

I have a confession to make. In the midst of constant complaints about the non-stop snow, I am secretly loving it. I say secretly because I'm afraid that if towards the end of the season I begin to look forward to green grass, someone may not let me forget my secret love of the white stuff. I even read in the news today about "Tips on how beat the depression" brought on by this kind of "foul" weather.

Colorado is known for huge changes in weather at a moment's notice. I love variety, which is one of the reasons I fell in love here. (Did I mention one day 2 weeks ago, the temperature hit 64 degrees and I hand washed my car? Two days later the high was 6 degrees.) This has been a very unusual winter. The grass was still green in December when the first blizzard hit and I now have no idea what it looks like now. It's been buried beneath deep snow for over a month. Snow usually melts within a day or two at most. But it is beautiful, which is why Winter is my second favorite month of all.

So, all of this got me to thinking about seasons. What is your favorite season of the year? I'd love to hear from everyone about which is the best to worst season. (I missed "delurking week" so I'd love for lurkers to jump in and add their answers too. You are welcome to post annonymously.) Oh, and please include the month you were born. I'm wondering if some of us look forward to a season because of the anticipation of celebrating one's birth.

Here are my answers:

1. Summer-I love the hot, lazy days of summer.
2. Winter-I love layering clothes and the beauty of winter snow.
3. Spring-Because just about the time I'm getting tired of being cold, springs breaks out. (My birthday is in March 13, technically winter, but close to spring
4. Fall-I think I've always disliked fall. For the past 20 years or so, it means my kids would go off to school, spending more of their day with a teacher instead of me. I never liked the beginning of a school year. I miss my kids when they are gone!

So what about you?

Sights & Sounds Sunday

(I love mobile blogging!)

Tick...tick....tick...it wasn't audible, but I could hear the the minutes counting down. He knew that the tickets went on sale at exactly 10 a.m. Why wasn't he out of bed yet? Did he forget? No, he couldn't possibly forget, or could he? Sometimes when things weren't important to him, he became absentminded. But he knew how much this meant to me.

It was only 9:15, but he never sleeps past 8 a.m. Ninety percent of the time, he goes to bed before me, and 99% of the time that is before midnight. So what was he doing up until 2:30 a.m. the previous night? It would be understandable if he slept past 10 this particular morning. This whole situation could be resolved in 1 of 2 ways. I could go wake him up. But in my mind, if I wake him up, that would be saying, "I don't trust you to keep your word." I could awaken him just before 10 if it looked like he wasn't moving towards getting up, but that still seemed a bit pushy.

Or, if he wasn't out of bed by the time the tickets went on sale, I could actually make the purchase myself. But...but, that wouldn't be the same. The tickets were for my birthday. It just wouldn't feel like the special gift it was if I made the purchase myself.

At this point I am beginning to fret. I'm already wondering what my reaction is to be if I miss out on this concert. He and I have never been to a concert together. We've never spent so much on tickets strictly for entertainment purposes. Am I going to be angry, disappointed? Will I have a hard time not bringing this up again-failure to remember something that is important to me?

What? Do I hear the sound of water running? Yes! He's up in plenty of time. He only takes about a half hour to get dressed. At 9:45 a.m. he walks into the room. He poises himself at the computer, as if he is about to start a marathon. At exactly 10 a.m. he begins furiously typing the info onto his keyboard. By 10 minutes after the hour it is done. Michael and I are going to the George Strait concert on March 3rd! My birthday is the 13, but I don't mind celebrating 10 days earlier. Woohoo! My husband rocks!~

This is my first attempt at blogger mobile. Nice temperature. I didn't realize I could take pics with my phone and upload to my blog without being anywhere near the computer. How cool is that? I can blog via my phone! Gotta love technology.

This is my first attempt at blogger mobile. Nice temperature.

I Wish I'd Thought Of That

Somewhere the question was asked, "how can we get consumers to spend more money?" Clothing manufactures & laundry detergent makers got together to find an answer that would benefit both. They needed to come up with a plan for selling more clothes creating a need to wash more frequently, thus selling more detergent. But how could they do this?

"I propose that we convince the general public that layering clothes is a grand idea. What about jackets and vests?" Suggested one vendor. He figured that if women were told jackets were flattering and could hide their figure flaws, they'd definitely go for it.

That idea worked alright, but it was found that jackets and vest didn't require laundering every day. Some had to be dry cleaned, so the detergent makers weren't very happy. Back to the drawing board they went.

One young entrepreneur had a thought. "What if we made clothing for the female gender a little more revealing? The men would love it. Let's design every shirt, blouse, sweater, or dress to be low cut, made from sheer or flimsy fabric. We will also begin manufacturing these lovely little numbers, that were once considered underclothes, as Cami's. Every woman who tries on our shirts will realize that it is necessary to layer something underneath. From there we can branch out to fancier brassieres because even with a shirt and a Cami, out clothes will still be sheer enough to see the straps. Every lady you know will desire to have not only an undershirt for everything she wears, but matching brassieres also. Think of the possibilities! It won't be long before we can have them wearing 5, 6, 7 simple pieces of clothing each and every day. Just think about how much more laundry they will be doing. I can hear the kaching at the register as they are investing in more and more laundry detergent. And the best part of all, we won't even bother giving the ladies any other choices. If we all get together and do this women everywhere will HAVE to purchase and wear more clothes.

And so the foolishness began.

Laundry-Clean or Dirty

Sometime after having my 5th child, laundry became out-of-control. To keep it somewhat manageable, I wash 3 loads a day, 5 days a week. This led to the occasional game of "is this clean or is this dirty?"

When I find articles of clothing, still folded amidst the dirty laundry, I know these items are clean. Somehow they've found their way back into the hamper. That somehow is usually one of the kids in a hurry to clean their room. Or on a rare occasion he or she has decided to sort through clothes they no longer wear. Why they'd dump their castoffs into a basket of dirty clothes boggles my mind. If not found in time, it is necessary to wash them again.

The other puzzling "is this clean or is it dirty" happens when a stray sock or pair of underwear is found on the floor of the laundry room. How does this happen? 1. It falls out when putting clothes into the washer. 2. An offending child rummages through their clean clothes basket and something gets tossed out. (Why would they bother to pick it back up?) 3. It gets knocked off the neatly folded (or haphazurdly heaped) pile of freshly laundered clothes on the table. 4. It is dropped while removing laundry from the dryer. So there are 3 chances in 4, that sock is clean.

With some socks and some underwear it is easy to tell "is this clean or is it dirty." If the sock is stiff, crunchy feeling, or stretched out it is definately dirty. Thong panties have a certain look after being worn that shouts unclean. But on occasion I have come across a pair of whitey tidies, or a sock that looks fresh out of the dryer. "Is this clean or is it dirty?" You pick it up. It feels soft. So how do you know? The true test is the whiff test. It is the only way. Pick it up and hold it to your nostrils and inhale. Ah, the soft scent of your favorite dryer sheet or an offending odor that causes you to propel the item away as if it was a dirty diaper you'd just plunged upon your face.

I've decided to quit playing the "is it clean or is it dirty game." From now on, if an item is on the floor, no matter how soft or clean looking it appears, it goes in with the dirties. The whiff test is just too, um, repulsive.

It's time to talk about something other than the weather around here. Sheesh! Enough already! I became so excited that the temperature made it to 20 today, my daughter and I left the house without a coat. It was almost balmy.

While getting ready for church, Christina mentioned that she and Ethan would join me. I was surprised, as it had been awhile. It is not easy taking Ethan to church. We never know if he will be able to sit that long or how quiet he will be. The Sunday School class is not always prepared to have him. They like to have one person to devote just to him. As my thoughts pondered what the morning might bring a memory came in to focus.

Ethan is now 4 1/2. By next fall, he will be old enough for kindergarten. I remembered Christina's first day of school at age 5. Along with the usual worries of a first-time mom sending her first child off to school, I had an added concern. My daughter was going with her arm in a cast that went from her hand to just under her armpit.

We'd taken our vacation at the end of summer. Arizona, naturally, to visit grandparents and cousins. While the adults were enjoying some much needed conversation, the kids played happily in the bedroom. Thud! No screams or crying, so we figured everything must be ok. Out walked Christina. One arm was cradling the other. The injured arm was bent at a 90 degree angle right in the middle of her forearm-a place that doesn't normally move or bend. I don't think I've ever moved so fast in my life.

At the hospital, I found I could not look at her arm without feeling faint. I was sure the contents of my stomach would come spilling out at any moment. It didn't help that I was 10 weeks pregnant. Thankfully, she did not have to have surgery to put everything back in place. We returned to Colorado with a momento from Arizona-a plaster cast. It was heavy and quite a weight on her thin little arm.

The first day of school Christina sported her very decorated but bulky cast. I was delighted to see her smile at the end of her very long, 2 1/2 hour day. We chatted on the drive home as she told me about her new teacher, the activity centers and books they'd read.

At home I wondered about recess. I'd been concerned about the possibility of her getting hurt or falling and injuring her arm further. So I asked her.

Me: How did recess go? What did you do?

Christina: I sat on the sidewalk and watched the kids play.

My heart was saddened. Had I frightened her with my warnings to be careful? Was she afraid to play? Before I had a chance to ask, she began to explain.

Christina: You know what mom? I think I know what a kid in a wheelchair feels like.

Me: What?

Christina: When I was sitting on the sidewalk, I was watching the other kids play. They would run by, then go up the slide, slide down and then run by again. When they'd run by, they'd look at me. I think they didn't know if I could play or not. I think they saw my arm and were afraid to ask what was wrong, and so were afraid to play with me. So they just kept playing. I think that happens to people in wheelchairs. People are afraid to talk to them because they don't know what is wrong with them, so they just ignore them. I think that is what the other kids thought.

As I remembered my daughter as a 5 year old, my eyes blurred with tears. Here she was at almost 26, doing an amazing job caring for her disabled son, Ethan. Ethan who is nearly 5 himself. Was God preparing Christina at 5 for what was to come years later? I looked over at Ethan. He was laughing and playing with his puppy. What could God be preparing him for at this tender age?

Ah, the weather

First it was the blizzard-27 inches of snow. The following week, another blizzard & 18 inches of snow. The next week only 8 inches fell. A few days later winds were blasting up to 70 mph. It was blowing leftover snow making visibility 0 on some roads. Two days later it was gorgeous! Ok, there still ice and snow packed on the street and our yard is covered in snow, but I took my car out and drove with the top down. Afterall, it was 40 degrees. It was splashed with icy, dirty water, but I figured we'd survive. That was Tuesday. On Wednesday it was 65 degrees. I hand washed my car in the driveway. (Yes, the water ran until it met the icy snow mound at the end of the drive and formed a nice pool. But again, I didn't care. I was enjoying the sunshine.) Sadly, on Thursday the temperatures dropped. It was -1 degrees when the girls left for school on Friday. Things haven't changed much. I think the high was 4 degrees today. Tonight -8 and the interesting weather continues...but I still LOVE Colorado! (Variety-it's the spice of life.)

I have the best kids ever! As a Christmas gift, they splurged and booked an overnight package-just the two of us, at the Brown Palace on our anniversary. We had to reschedule, as our anniversary was December 29th. That date coincided with the second blizzard and record amounts of snowfall in 2 weeks. As the rescheduled date drew near, there was again talk of yet another big snowstorm.

Michael and I contemplated changing the date yet again, but decided to just go anyway. I grumbled that we'd yet to be able to mill around downtown, see the city lights, walk the 16th Street mall, or take a carriage ride during the Christmas Season. It always seemed to be very cold or snowy the day we chose. Okay, we're wimps when it comes to the cold.

One of the kids asked, "well, why did you get married in December?" Um...err...well, that is just when it was convenient. (They all know why.) Besides, we lived in Arizona. It doesn't snow in Phoenix.

Friday morning it was snowing. Michael had to go into the office for a meeting. I figured I'd shovel our enormous driveway so we could get away early. Eight inches of newly fallen snow. I could do it. What I'd forgotten were the huge piles of snow along the side of the driveway. It wasn't a matter of just tossing the shovel fulls to the side. They had to be hoisted up a good 3 feet or more. The neighbors were probably laughing as they watched me scoop and attempt to throw. In an almost mocking way, the snow would tumble down the hill and back onto the driveway. I fought with the heavy wet stuff for a couple of hours. I only fell once on some ice, but I won.

Michael and I made it to our romantic getaway. Free valet parking, Rose-petal turn down with delicious truffles, an equisite dessert, a bottle of wine, an amazing breakfast in the elegant Ellyington restaurant, and at the "Top of the Brown." We had a wonderful time. Thanks kids!
(Room Service)

The Real Puppy Story

I posted a picture of Ethan and some puppies last week. He was just visiting the mamma dog and her 10 pups. Ethan is now the proud owner of a Boxer puppy, as is his Uncle Christopher. Here are a few pictures:


Hilary with Dazee and Daphne


Sarabeth helping Ethan with Dazee


A Boy & His Dog

The New Puppy

If you happened to be at my house sometime in the past two days, per chance you noticed a new pet. The kitchen is blocked off, as it is the only flooring with no carpet-so the perfect place to house a not-housetrained critter. Now if you ventured downstairs, as you might, quite possibly you saw another pet. RoboDog. Walking past you'd see Robodog standing in the middle of the room. You would be amazed at the performances of this not-so-cuddly pup. You would marvel at the pile of poop, just beneath the backside of the metal and plastic. How real it looked. And that mound, you would find, is scented just as if it had been freshly laid by its live counterpart.

Wait a minute! The father of the house would happen by and report that not only is that brown goo the real stuff , but it was not manufactured by the robotic dog. Someone had actually found this pile of poop and strategically placed RoboDog in order to trick someone into believing he was the guilty party. As the father questioned those present in the house, you probably heard a few muffled snickers. But nobody would have an idea how RoboDog did it.

There were still 2 absent members of the household. One of them must be the guilty party. Shortly after arriving, the first one home was questioned. Gales of laughter were heard. "Come on Dad, you have to admit, didn't it make you laugh just a little?" I might have cracked a wee smile. This is the sense of humor of a 19 year old. Now aren't you glad you didn't visit my house recently?

Surprise of 2006

Have you ever waited expectantly for something to happen? Something big? Have you sat in anticipation for what yet, you didn't really know but you knew it had to be good?

This was my experience that began at the end of 2004. As Christmas approached I couldn't shake the excitement that churned inside of me. I did not know what it was and I had no idea what was to come, nor was I planning anything. It was one of those God things where you just have a sense that He is up to something-and He was.

I knew I was greatly blessed. I'd been given so much and I was spiritually rich beyond anything I'd ever imagined. What more could I want? But inside I had this sense that I was about to be blessed in a physical, tangible way. A blessing I could grab hold of, something I could see with my eyes and not just my heart.

I love the verse in Ephesians that begins: "Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think," (or can imagine...) I have a very creative, imaginative mind. I tried to envision a big gift for Christmas that would knock my socks off. I remembered a birthday when a friend unexpectedly dropped by with an equisite, bountiful plate of delicious 2 layer brownies. But I knew this would be a bigger surprise. But no matter how hard I tried, I felt I wasn't believing big enough. The only big object that I could come up with was a car. But who would give me a car? Besides, I already had a car-an 8 passenger Suburban. What could be bigger than that?

Christmas came. It was nice, but nothing big happened. The feeling of expectancy didn't leave. Another birthday passed and another Christmas approached. That Christmas/anniversary, Michael did surprise me with a new wedding ring. It was unlike anything I ever imagined I would own. It was big and beautiful, very different than the gold band placed on my finger when we exchanged vows.

The funny thing was, I felt like there was more. For those of you who dont' know me in real life, I have never been a material person. But I had this sense that the Lord was showing me His extravagance in a tangible way. I wasn't sure why, but who was I to question His goodness? As Valentine's Day approached I was sure that something incredible was about to happen. (Some of you may remember reading that it didn't.) But the big blessing didn't come until my birthday.

My socks were definately knocked off. Not only did I receive the gorgeous diamond and ruby earings I'd been admiring, but Michael bought me a brilliant Rio Yellow Convertible Sports Car. Now there are 2 reasons that this was so huge. The first was I do not ever remember owning a small car. I've driven the Suburban for 6 years, and the 12 years prior a full size Ford Van. Imagine a mother of 5 children driving a 2 passenger car with the top down, hair blowing without a care in the world.

The second reason is that my husband is very frugal with his money. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined him buying me such a fun and seemingly frivolous, yet expensive car-just for fun and enjoyment. Money is important to Michael, it means security. For him to be so lavish, so extravagant could only mean one thing. He values me. I am more important than his money, than anything his money can buy. It tells me I am worth it. He is willing to sacrifice in order to see the joy and delight it gives me.

Mary at Owlhaven asked, "what's the best thing that happened to you this year that you could not have predicted a year ago? In other words, what was your best surprise in 2006?" And this was it.

Note to self, must get rid of the Santa hat.

Wordless Wednesday



For more Wordless Wednesdays...

Happy 53rd Birthday Michael!

In honor of my dear husband's birthday, I am writing 53 things about Michael.

53. Michael is 30 years older than his son.
52. He is 30 years younger than his dad.
51. I find I am still learning things about him.
50. Michael likes dark chocolate, but not milk chocolate.
49. He is so very patient with me and my quirkiness.
48. He is a tease and we all laugh at his sarcasm.
47. Michael actually enjoyed shoveling our new huge driveway after the blizzard.
46. He plays Power Rangers with Ethan.

45. He likes curly hair.
44. (I'm glad I have curly hair.)
43. He loves red hair.
42. (Did you notice I'm a redhead now? LOL.)
41. Michael has a gorgeous smile.
40. He works from home, where we share an office.
39. He takes me out to lunch at least once a week (and lets me get Starbucks whenever I want.)
38. He doesn't drink coffee.
37. Michael is trustworthy.
36. He enjoys mowing the lawn and doing yard work.
35. He has a riding lawn mower.

34. Isn't romantic by nature, so instead works very hard at it for me.
33. He never complains about how long it takes me to get ready to go somewhere.
32. He is a genius.
31. Is a member of mensa.
30. He doesn't like computer or video games, but enjoys a good challenge.
29. He has been an incredible provider for me and our 5 kids.

28. Michael is a wonderful father and an even better grandpa.
27. Loves to fly sail planes.
26. He isn't particularly fond of pets.
25. He lets me think I am right.
24. He is honest.
23. He used to be a gymnast.
22. He still has hair.
21. Michael compliments me often.
20. He has his pilot's license.

19. Is amazing with finances and has a gift for earning and investing.
18. He has the greenest lawn on the block (okay, with 1 exception.)

17. Is witty and great with puns.
16. He keeps our cars in great running order (and most of you know about the little gem of a car he bought me.)

15. Michael has been on a 100 mile bike ride.
14. He is a man of character and a man of his word.
13. He is generous.
12. He used to be a flight instructor.
11. He keeps me laughing with his sense of humor.

10. He likes to make me happy, and I am happy most of the time.
9. Michael appreciates anything and everything I cook.
8. Diet Pepsi is his favorite drink.
7. He watches T.V. to relax.
6. He lets me pick out whatever music I want to listen to.
5. Michael is honest in everything he does.
4. He is creative.
3. He is my partner in having fun.

2. He tells me he loves me every day.
1. He just keeps getting better and better.


Happy Birthday Michael!!!

When I was 6, my family attended a small Baptist Church. My brother and I were in the same Sunday School class since so few children went. He is 13 months older than I.

The Sunday before Christmas, the teacher asked, "Whose birthday is next Wednesday?" My brother immediately spoke up, "It's mine!" Mrs. Noel, the teacher of the primary grades very gently told him, "no, it isn't your birthday. Does anyone know the answer?"

"It IS my birthday." My brother insisted. "I will be 8." The teacher turned and looked sternly at him. I wanted to say something, but being so shy, I instead began nodding my head in agreement. His birthday was indeed on Wednesday."

Relenting, Mrs. Noel replied, "okay, it is Greg's birthday, but who else celebrates their birthday on Wednesday?" Without waiting for a response she answered her own question. "Class, next Wednesday is Jesus' birthday." As she continued to share the wonderment over this most magnificent event, my brother just looked sad.

As a child, how do you measure up to sharing a birthday with Jesus? Not only does Jesus' birth outshine yours, but then this Santa character comes in and presents gifts to everyone else on your birthday. Nobody wishes you a Happy Birthday. It is "Merry Christmas, oh, and Happy Birthday too."

My mom tried to be creative in celebrating Greg's birthday. I remember the time he had his birthday party in September. It was the beginning of the school year and he had friends over, birthday hats and birthday wrapping paper. I think he had fun, but I don't think he felt like it was "really" his birthday. My guess is that he felt slighted on his birthday. Too often he was handed a brightly wrapped Christmas gift from unsuspecting friends/relatives with the greeting, "Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday."

With the exception of that Christmas when I was 6, I didn't think much about his birthday being on Christmas. I don't recall ever celebrating it on Christmas.

Do you remember the November I met Michael?(Part One & Part 2) A few short weeks later, I was at his parents' home to celebrate his birthday. His mother always made a big deal out of his birthday. His falls on December 24th. His sister's is the 26th. Three days of birthday celebration.

As I'd grown accustomed to, I presented my gift to Michael. It was wrapped in beautiful Christmas paper. "Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday." I watched the look of shock and horror from the faces of his sisters. One of them spoke up. "It is Michael's birthday, not Christmas. You never wrap someone's birthday gift in Christmas paper." I was embarrassed, humiliated. I'd never given it much thought.

Talking with Michael, he said he'd never felt slighted in regards to his birthday being on Christmas Eve. Now I understood why. I never made the mistake of wrapping a December birthday gift in Christmas paper, nor did I hand a single gift with birthday and Christmas greetings together. I wonder how Jesus feels as we go about our celebrations, anticipation of Santa's arrival and all, and then throw in the token Christmas Eve attendance at church.