I Feel It In My Fingers...

...I feel it in my toes. Christmas is all around me. C'mon and let it snow.

Sorry, had to get a Love Actually reference in there.

Our December has been busy, as promised. My sister graduated college.

 While we were up in the northeast corner of the state, we went ahead and celebrated B's birthday (his actual birthday is tomorrow-- yikes, how is he two already?). B loved his Thomas cake.

 He did not love us singing "Happy Birthday" to him. As soon as we started singing, he started crying.

 All was well again once he started opening presents. C got a train table for her second birthday because she loved Thomas at that age. I think B has a little more love for trains though, and our collection is growing. He got lots of trains for his birthday. And cars. That boy loves anything with wheels. And balls-- he can already distinguish between a football and a baseball.

 Hopefully he won't cry too hard when we sing "Happy Birthday" and celebrate again tomorrow with our family here in town.

In C's world, she performed in her school's Christmas chapel service. Her class all dressed as shepherds and sang "Go Tell It on the Mountain."

 At the end, all of the students sang "Mary Had a Baby." It's a tradition at the school. It's kind of weird to think that next year we won't have a kid attending preschool there. B will go the following year though. We've loved sending C to this school! It's been the perfect environment for her to grow and thrive.

We enjoyed some flurries here, but our white Christmas won't come until we head up to my parents' house to celebrate with them. We're spending today in our jammies and sweats, wrapping birthday presents, making a birthday cake, and watching Christmas movies. It's cold out there even with no snow on the ground. And drivers on the road are just plain crazy right now.

C is eagerly awaiting Santa's arrival. The big guy does visit our house, brings one gift (that he leaves unwrapped and put together to avoid morning frustration), and that's it. I was actually reflecting on the whole Santa thing the other day, really questioning if we're doing the right thing by allowing our kids to believe in something that isn't real. But at the end of the day, I came to understand and realize that my kids are only going to be little once.

Santa isn't at the center of our Christmas celebration. C can tell you the Christmas story (and act it out if you really want her to do so) and definitely "gets" that Christmas is all about Jesus' birth. B can recognize Baby Jesus in our nativity set, but other than that, he's still too little to understand much beyond presents and bright lights and decorations. The Bible talks a lot about having childlike faith. I see in C's eyes this year that faith that Santa will come. She is in awe and wonder about the fact that a big guy in a red suit will come down our chimney and leave her a gift; she knows gifts symbolize that Jesus was God's gift to humanity. And that awe and wonder and childlike faith in Santa is how God wants me to feel about His Son's birth. I am in awe. I am filled with wonder. God used an ordinary woman. His rescue plan for humanity started with a baby's cry in a dirty stable.

The reality is, the Christmas story isn't something that C (or B) is old enough to grasp with that same awe and wonder I feel. In fact, they really aren't old enough to question it. God wants to save humanity with a baby? Why not? Sure. God can do anything, and yes, C believes that with her whole heart (our Kids' Club team at church is amazing in how they relate the Bible to our little ones). The awe and wonder of a baby born to save us will come with time, but for now, I figure I only have a few short years to enjoy the awe and wonder that come with a big man in a red suit. The way I see my children, especially C since B is still a little leery of Santa, anticipate his arrival perfectly mirrors how God wants me to understand the Christmas story.

And if Santa isn't your thing, that's fine. One Ordinary Dad grew up in a household where he was told from the get-go that Santa didn't exist. He isn't any worse for it. I grew up in household where he did. And no, I didn't feel like my parents had lied to me when I found out the truth. In fact, I had fun building into the anticipation with my younger brother and sister. But please, if you're choosing not to make him a part of your yearly Christmas traditions, don't ruin it for my children. I want to cherish these few years and I want the reminder that I should be amazed and humbled by the most precious gift of all-- a reminder to have that childlike faith that an ordinary baby came to do an extraordinary thing.

Merry Christmas everyone!

~One Ordinary Mom