Our Enduring Christmas Tradition

From "Elf on the Shelf" to cookie exchanges, there are plenty of Christmas traditions to choose from. But for book lovers, this is an enduring tradition in my family that I'd love share with you! I started doing this when my oldest was 5, which means my family has been doing it for 17 years!

It's simple: I gather our Christmas picture books and check out Christmas picture books from the library and wrap them in Christmas wrapping paper. Then I put the books out, and every day one child will choose a book to unwrap. Then I read the book aloud.

That's it!

I usually wrap only a few books at a time (library books go first, and I try to reuse the paper if possible). If you wrap all 24 books beforehand, you have an Advent calendar! My children look forward to hearing their favorites, and we are also always on the look out for new favorites. And who doesn't like to pull off wrapping paper and see what's hidden underneath?

If you're looking for some wonderful Christmas books, here is the link to my post Our Favorite Christmas Books! 

There are so many beautiful Christmas stories out there; I hope you discover a few this year!

Christmas Memories

I had forgotten about my last blog post. 

"Sometimes, a writer writes just because..."

Now I wrote a song that I can't sing.

It's not because the notes are too difficult or the range is too high. It's because every time I try to sing it, tears start streaming down my face.

But I had to write it.

A few months ago, my friend told me that she has cancer. She is 36 years old. Then soon after, I learned that a young girl I know has cancer. She is 15.

My heart at times feels like it's held in a vise. I want to yell, but I have no words. When I visit, I see the parents smiling, but with a sad, tired look in their eyes. If my heart feels like it's in a vise at times, their hearts must feel like that every day. Day in and day out, around the clock, they are selflessly caring for their daughters, while knowing that there is no hope for recovery. I can't imagine the feeling of watching my child in pain, slowly becoming a shadow of the person I knew. I can't imagine how Christmas, usually a joyous time, will be for these families this year.

And so, I wrote this song. For them, for me, for you if you've lost a child. I find myself holding my little one closer these days. Remember, you have only so many Christmases with your children.

Christmas Memories

I have Christmas memories

Of you seated on my knee

As I read you stories in the glow 

of lights upon the tree

I have Christmas memories

Of the sound of little feet

Running to my bed to wake me 

with your laughter and your glee

Long ago

But it feels like yesterday

When I watched you run and play

Then I held you as you slowly slipped away

So many Christmas memories

Some are sad and some are sweet

Now my only Christmas wish is to hold you close 

Just like I used to do

And to make more Christmas memories with you

Writing a Memoir

Sometimes, a writer writes just because, without really knowing why. It's a way to get thoughts and emotions out.

I started doing that a few weeks ago. I felt prompted to write a memoir of sorts, but without knowing what I would do with it. I just wanted to put my memories down on paper, to sort through some details and record them before I forgot.

But I still wasn't sure what I would do with it once it was done. Writing a memoir is scary. It's my life on paper. But at the same time, it feels pointless. I'm no one special. This isn't going to the autobiography of Julie Andrews or Ghandi or something. Who would read it?

But then I remembered that I had the same thought fourteen years ago.

"Who would want to read what I wrote?!"

So I didn't write.

Until...

I realized that some of my thoughts could be a benefit to some people. Maybe not everyone. Maybe not all my thoughts. But someone out there could read what I write and have a revelation.

So I started a blog.

Anyway, fourteen years later, I'm finishing up my memoir of sorts. I'll let you know when it's ready, just in case you're someone who might want to read it.

Giving Children Freedom

As far as jobs and careers go, I never want my kids to feel like they need to live up to my expectations. They don't have to become pianists, they don't have to become doctors, they don't have to get a bachelor's or master's degree.

I want my children to have the freedom to succeed, in whatever way they choose to do.

But with the freedom to succeed comes the freedom to fail.

I've been thinking about this quite a bit lately, as I now have three adult children trying to make their way in the world. One chose not to continuing with schooling, one is working towards her bachelor's, and one is just starting out at a community college. And in all they do, I see them fearlessly try different things, and I've come to the conclusion that it's because they know that they will not be judged for trying and failing. They themselves have seen their dad and I work endlessly on creative projects, sometimes with success and sometimes not. We are not afraid to share our failures with our children.

And that makes a big difference.

Parents, be aware of your expectations (what is your definition of success?) and watch how you speak to your children about them. My parents encouraged me in my music, but still questioned me if I brought home anything less than an 'A' on my report card. I always felt like I couldn't do enough. Talk to your children about perseverance and diligence more than winning. Tell them that it's okay to try, and fail. Share your stories and listen to theirs. And please, share your stories here! Tell me about your experiences with failure and success, either as a child or as a parent.

Food for the Soul

During the Covid pandemic, I had a clear understanding of the purpose of art. Though most people had food and shelter during the lock-down, it wasn't enough. We aren't simply robots, needing a recharge and tune-up every now and then. We are human, we are souls, and art fed those souls. So my family and I painted cards to send to people and made music videos to share online. At that time, I understood that art was a necessity.

But somehow, this past year, I lost that understanding. I no longer had a clear vision of the "why" behind what I did. My head knew it, but my heart didn't. As I tried to think of ways to bring in more income to help my college-bound children, I felt more and more that artists were undervalued in society. Schools were cutting art and music programs. Tech and computer skills were desirable in the job market. I could make $25/hour teaching music, but if a fast-food employee makes $20/hour (new law here in California), then does that mean I'm worth a little more than a McDonald worker? (I know it's not the right question to ask, but that's where my heart was at the time.)

What made matters worst was that after I finished vocal directing The Wizard of Oz in June, I felt a big hole. I had spent months working on this beautiful show, and it was all over in four days. What was I doing? I asked myself. Is it all meaningless?

I needed someone to shine a light through my fog, so this morning I had breakfast with my friend KW (who was the director of The Wizard of Oz and my musical, Five Children and It.) As she talked about collaboration and worship and God and all things dear to her heart, she couldn't hold back her tears. I just sat and listened. 

Hours later, I thought about her words, and it was then that my fog lifted. This is the vision I have now:

The shows I work on are like apples (or fill in with your favorite fruit here.) Most people will eat an apple, appreciate it, and enjoy it in the moment. They probably will not think about where the fruit came from, beyond the grocery store they bought it at. I, on the other hand, was there before the apple even started growing. I cared for the tree, saw the blossoms, and tended the apples as they grew. I worked alongside the Creator to ensure a sweet, beautiful crop. And in the end, when I enjoyed a bite of the apple, I could think back to the day I first saw the tiny apple growing on the tree. And I could be proud of the work I've done, even after the apple is gone.

So now I see that being an artist is an amazing blessing, not a curse. The world may not value it as such, but that's okay. I'm working with God to cultivate food for the soul!