We need a little Christmas!

Haul out the holly; put up the tree before my spirit falls again.
Fill up the stockings, I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now.
For we need a little Christmas, right this very minute, candles in the window, carols at the spinet.
Yes, we need a little Christmas right this very minute –
It hasn't snowed a single flurry, but Santa, dear, we're in a hurry;

So climb down the chimney; turn on the brightest string of lights I’ve ever seen.
Slice up the fruitcake; it's time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough.
For I've grown a little leaner, grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older,
And I need a little angel sitting on my shoulder, need a little Christmas now.

For we need a little music, need a little laughter, need a little singing ringing through the rafter,
And we need a little snappy "Happy ever after," need a little Christmas now.
I can't help it – I’ve been humming this all afternoon. Yeah, put up the pilgrims (there you go, back in your plastic boxes).



Bring out the Santas...



Get out your holiday cookbooks!



(All of them.)



And the cookie cutters! Oh, I'm in the mood . . .



And don't forget a little Christmas music.



Last week I started with all this; baked my favorite once-a-year-only Three C Bread, the closest thing to fruitcake I’m ever going to put in my mouth, and maa’an is it good. And better the next day. Been making Christmas lists, been shopping a little already (even been to the post office), listening to carols – hey, by the way, did you see the Oprah My Favorite Things 2007 giveaway show last week? It was filmed in Macon! I watched it and (you’ll laugh) bawled like a baby when Josh Groban came onstage at the end and sang a medley from his new Christmas album. Yes, I have it, it’s out of this world. Well, that put me in the spirit right there. That and the Three C Bread – I said it got better the next day and it does because the raisins get plumpier and the cherries riper and the carrot and coconut sweeter and pecans nuttier surrounded by all that brown-sugar goodness. Anyway, I’ve got to get the last of my turkeys and pumpkins packed up, even a ghost and black cat have been left on the mantel with fall trimmings. Time to decorate this house for the holidays!

Oh.

Before I go, I have to post one of my favoritest things already this season, this great picture of Mom. Dad, you did a super job! Probably because, Mom, you're in your element and the wind isn't whipping your hair all up into a froth. Maybe because you're happy to have your kids over for a few days and some help with the dishes. Dad caught you in the perfect light - I don't know; this is just a fabulous picture. To me it's Christmas early. It's beautiful. I love it.

No words needed

On a serious note . . .

I've been thinking of Christ in Gethsemane lately. Monday in Seminary we start Deuteronomy, the review (just before Moses dies and the Israelites are to proceed into the promised land) of the Lord's covenants with the Israelites and the consequences of their obedience or disobedience. For weeks I've been following Moses, wondering, I guess, if I would have been attentive to the 'shadow by day and the pillar by night,' the miracles that allowed passage through the desert: manna, the Bread of Life, water from the rock (see symbolism there?), victory over enemies, the brazen serpent raised to cure snake bite if one looked upon it. You can hardly imagine this roller-coaster episode in Jewish history without reading every day about it, and I have, and I'm grateful and exhausted. Exhausted because of the peoples' rebellion . . . Moses said of the Israelites, "Ye have been rebellious against the LORD from the day that I knew you." (Deut. 9:24)

Everything around them was a type, a similitude, of Christ to come and His sacrifice. Their rites and all the Law exhorted the people to look and live. Would I have recognized Jehovah then, tried to rise above daily ritual or distractions in camp to confidence in the Savior and where he was leading me? I think of Enoch's encounter with Jehovah in Moses 7:29, 32-33 And Enoch said unto the Lord: How is that thou canst weep seeing thou art holy, and from all eternity to all eternity? The Lord said unto Enoch: Behold these thy brethren are the workmanship of mine own hands, and [I gave] unto man his agency; And unto thy brethren have I given commandment, that they should choose me, their Father. I learned from this and following verses that the heavens do weep when we don't pay attention, don't remember him, stay distracted, or worse, rebel rather than look up and prepare to receive our own promised land.

I'm burdened by knowing the Savior was so anguished in the Garden of Gethsemane. We've been reading the New Testament every morning before Kent goes to work and have come through Matthew into the last chapters of Mark, coincidental with my many thoughts on sacrifice, covenants, obedience, suffering, and weeping in the heavens. Mark 14 describes Christ going into the Garden with the three disciples, imploring them to watch with him, saying my soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death; tarry ye here, and watch; falling forward and praying that if it were possible the hour might pass from him, but not what I will, but what thou wilt. I was drawn to these passages by one of the most insightful talks on the atonement I've ever heard, given by Neal Maxwell on March 30, 1986 at a BYU Devotional and broadcast one morning recently on BYU television. The talk is on Joseph Smith, an absolutely stunning discourse, and culminates in testimony of the Savior, which has been, for me, riveting. Attention-getting. I've included links to an audio version and transcripts, both. Please, sometime between now and Christmas if possible, take time to listen to this talk or read it with your families. It will truly move you.

document TRANSCRIPT

I started by saying I've been thinking of Christ in Gethsemane lately, and I rambled, but I hope I've come full circle. God in heaven is our Father, and gave us commandments to choose Him. He sent his divine son, Jesus Christ, into the world to draw us to Him. When we look into the Holy scriptures, study there, immerse ourselves, ponder and pray, we come to know the Savior and our own fallen selves, and keenly begin to want to do what is right and keep our covenants and the Lord's commandments. When we look away from stuff going on around us in camp, akin to the Israelites' idols, and instead train our gaze on the image which, as Nephi recounted, he prepared [as] a way that they might be healed; and the labor which they had to perform was to look, we have assurances and peace in this world and eternal life in the world to come, and Christ will not weep over us. I love this with all my heart. I give the rest of Nephi's description of the brass serpent, a type for Christ in the wilderness, and victory over sin and death: and because of the simpleness of the way, or the easiness of it, there were many who perished.

I think of His hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt,
Such mercy, such love and devotion, can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet!
Oh it is wonderful, that He should care for me enough to die for me!
Oh it is wonderful. Wonderful to me.

Afterward

We have a beautiful, stunning day! Wind and rain swept through mid-afternoon yesterday - I had just left the house with a pecan pie for my neighbor across the street and got wet getting home - and the leaves are on the ground now and the skies very high and clear. Sweatshirt weather finally - good for gathering the last of the nuts. They're under there. See our cabbage coming along, and the beets and "multiplying" onions off to the left? Our winter garden. I love looking at my tin american flag waving bravely in the faded flower garden. The cannas and basil are dead. A little spot of lavendar struggles along and the rosemary is absolutely in heaven.

Ahem . . .this is precisely all that is left of the pumpkin pie now. I have had not a single piece - I made it for Kent. When he showed up with his approximately third piece during the football game last night and mentioned he was having a little pie with his whipped cream, I said never a word. (I was busy with double-chocolate chip garbanzo bean cookies.)



He hasn't gained a pound.

Sweet Little Bird

Sweet little bird in russet coat
The livery of the closing year
I love thy lonely plaintive note
And tiny whispering song to hear
While on the style or garden seat
I sit to watch the falling leaves
The songs thy little joys repeat
My loneliness relieves. John Clare

Happy Turkey Day and a Thanksgiving Poem

It's Thanksgiving and I don't have to get up. But I'm awake before daylight like usual. Can't stay in bed, there's so much to DO! I'm thinking a mile a minute and I haven't even taken a deep breath; happy to be done sleeping. Ran right outside and took pictures after the morning rain.





Kent and I agreed two weeks ago we wouldn't eat a traditional Thanksgiving meal, no cooking, no messing things up this year. Ham sandwiches and pie maybe. Last night we went on a field trip to our new Kroger and Kent put a 12 lb. turkey in the buggy. (You call the grocery cart "buggy" here.) I eyeballed that bird and knew what was next:



And:



Onions are multiplying in our winter garden; sage, poultry seasoning, salt and pepper are adequately stocked in the cupboard and not past the sell-by date. Kent traditionally makes stuffing from scratch. The only reason he needs a turkey is for the hole. For the S T U F F I N G.










I've got a couple of pies to bake this morning - pecan and pumpkin. Then we're set. Probably eat about 1:00. Thank goodness!

Mom wrote me this a couple of days ago: Hi Natalie; While I was making out a grocery list yesterday, I thought of a great idea; that is to ask you to write a poem about Gov. Wm Bradford for Thanksgiving. You can share it with everyone. Smile. Do you like my idea? He deserves some specific attention having to scrounge for the first Thanksgiving out in the wild. He didn't have a Kroger nearby, that's for sure. I tried to jot down a few lines; and it isn't easy. Why should I stress over it when I can solicit the smartest daughter who writes poetry, to give it a try. Think about it, you know you have been looking for something to brainstorm about with no Seminary to stir your thoughts. I'll see what you come up with. Don't fret, just the basic few lines that would give us some reason to emulate him during the holiday and for the grand kids to think about. Love ya, Mom

So, enjoy this poem before you eat. Finished it yesterday.

The First Thanksgiving

In sixteen hundred nine our Fathers, ever on the run
From troubles in the mother land, from under England’s thumb,
From icky neighbors, all who bore hostilities and such,
Settled in the Netherlands. They never liked it much -
Holland’s ways were wicked, and their kids were speaking Dutch.

They hailed a ship to carry them – a hundred people, plus.
The “Mayflower,” a wooden rig, and cramped and cold it was.
September, sixteen twenty-aught, they sailed to Plymouth thus.
They landed late in wintertime and tried to ‘fitte a home;
’By spring the half of them had died of all who’d ever come.

Great-grandpa Bradford never passed. By April ’21
He’d been elected Governor in place of Carver, John.
His duties were to hear the crowd’s complaints and feed them all,
And true to character, he tried to heed their every call.
One day an Indian, Samoset, walked in and said, “Hey, ya’ll!”


From then they planted Indian corn with fish (I wouldn't want to),
With help from Samoset and Massasoit, and even Squanto.
Here, freinds (thought Grandpa Bradford) be a blessing by our syde!
And he and all the colony did take them in their stride.
“Ye Saints and Strangers,” Grandpa spoke, “togeather yey abide.”


The harvest in October brought their hunger to a halt,
With corn and fruits and vegetables, full ripe and with no fault;
And venison and Turkies, even fishes packed in salt.
Our Grandpa noted codd and bass, of which yey tooke goode store.
The Starving Time a year before would this year be no more.

Three days they entertained and feasted, "days of goode and plentie,
With Massasoyt and ninetie men in sixteen one and twentie.
And though it be not always so, as was it in these days,
Yet by God’s goodness do we now from want and famine raise,
And feel to make you all partakers of His grace and praise.”


They rallied to the table which was loaded to the gills,
Though not with such as we have with our fancy food and frills.
They gazed on Indian corn and peas and barley, nuts and wheat;
They nodded at the pumpkins, squash, and plums to make them sweet.
The ogled cod and bass and chicken, turkey and deer meat;
Then turned to Governor Bradford, who said, “Praise the Lord! Let’s eat!”

Natalie Bradford Holbrook, November 20, 2007