One Thing at a Time

Happy Almost New Year's FFFs,

I can't believe it is almost 2017! Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that I was posting the first time in 2016? Time is flying! I really don't see how it could possibly be anywhere close to the New Year. Do you?

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas. I know I did. With it being on Sunday, we got to go to church and enjoyed visiting with people afterwards since we didn't have either choir practice or bell practice. And neither I nor my sister were working in the nursery. :) Then, after eating lunch, we had a relaxed time of opening gifts at home. Then I got to read. Well, I was going to read, but my best friend called and wanted to know if I wanted to join them in a walk. So I did. It was lovely weather! It was nearly 70º, overcast and quiet. It really was delightful. Then I came home and read.

Right now I'm up at my grandparents'. We don't have much planned. Just relaxing and hanging out. We head home tomorrow. And then it's the New Year. *gulp* Are you ready for the new year? What big projects do you have planned for this coming year? Anything?

I know I've posted this story before, but it's been a few years, and I just thought it was appropriate with the New Year almost upon us to be reminded of a few important things. :) Enjoy!

One Thing at a Time

    “There isn’t any time or I have no inclination!” The girl flung down her pencil and watched it roll across the floor and under a shelf with gloomy satisfaction.
    “No time or inclination for what?” asked an amused voice.
    Turning, the girl saw her brother standing in the open doorway. There was a look of fresh air and sunshine about him and his eyes sparkled with life and energy.
    With a deep, drawn out sigh, the girl turned to stare moodily at the wall, propped her chin in her hand and replied, “Everything.”
    “You’re right,” came the unexpected answer. “I have no time nor inclination to go join some of the other fellows in the saloon, or spend half the night at a party dancing, or play cards with Bill and Tom though they coaxed me to for half an hour yesterday.”
    “But it’s not the same thing, Max!” the girl pouted. “I’d think you, at least, would understand and help me.”
    “Suppose you explain yourself then, Meg and maybe I can.”  The young man settled himself on a chair where he could see his sister’s face and waited.
    For a moment Meg was silent, her pretty face clouded and gloomy. At last she spoke. “There’s nothing to explain. I just don’t have the time to do everything I want to do or should do, and when I do have the time I don’t want to do it.”
    Max nodded soberly though his brown eyes twinkled merrily. “Of course. Just what I said, not enough time and don’t want to. Anything else the matter?”
    At that, Meg glowered at him. “You’re no help! Why don’t you go play ball or go fishing.”
    Max laughed. “Because I don’t want to. It seems to be the same problem you have. Besides, there’s no one to play with. Seriously though, Meg,” his voice became sober. “It sounds like you have the same problem the Apostle Paul had when he said the good that I would, that I don’t do, but the evil that I don’t want to do, that’s what I do.”
    “But I don’t want to do evil, Max,” Meg protested. “The things I want to do are good, but when I have time to do them, I don’t want to do them anymore. And when I should do them, I want to do something else.”
    “Oh, so you’re problem is that you want to do good things when you want to do them and not when you should do them?”
    Meg shrugged.
    “Doesn’t doing something, even if it is good, at the wrong time make it wrong?”
    “No.”
    “There’s a time for every purpose under heaven,” Max quoted.
    “But that doesn’t mean when I draw and paint and when I practice the piano or weed the garden. Or study history,” she added in a lower voice.
    “It doesn’t? Meg, if I were to decide to work on my Latin when I should be preparing my algebra, do you think I’d be ready to recite in arithmetic class?”
    “No, but—”
    “And if you were to practice the piano when Aunt Jane was taking a nap, do you think you would be ready for your lesson?”
    Meg couldn’t help smiling over that idea though she shook her head. Her aunt would soon put a stop to her lessons if she tried it. “But my drawing and reading and weeding don’t disturb anyone.”
    Raising his eyebrows Max folded his arms. “They don’t? What about you?”
    A puzzled look crossed Meg’s face. “What do you mean?”
    “Doesn’t your reading disturb you, when you want to do it when you shouldn’t?”
    Meg’s eyes dropped and she half turned her face to hide a blush, for Max had spoken the truth. She did love to read and often her drawing and garden were neglected while she poured over her history book. “It’s that I don’t feel like drawing sometimes or working in the garden, even if I do enjoy those things.” Her voice was muffled by her hands. “And I have to study for history.”
    “Do you feel like you’ve accomplished everything well if you study your history when you haven’t finished the rest of your work?”
    Meg shook her head slowly.
    Silence fell on the room. A bee buzzed around the open window and the sound of robins singing in the tree outside broke the quiet. At last Meg, without looking at her brother said, “I tried to read only when it was time to study history, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I wish I had more time to read. Or more inclination to do the other things. But sometimes I’d rather be outside in the garden than even reading.” She sighed.
    Max stood up and gently pulled his sister’s hands away from her face. “I’d much rather study Latin than tug at those algebra problems, and if I let my mind be distracted by the Latin I wished I could be studying, I’d have low marks and Papa wouldn’t be very pleased. You love history and reading, Meg, but you also have other things to learn. You have to discipline yourself to focus on the thing at hand. Do one thing at a time, then, when you have extra time, you can enjoy all the more doing what you really like.”
    For a moment Meg sat with her eyes downcast, not noticing the half finished drawing that lay before her.
    “One thing at a time, Meggy,” Max repeated softly, using the pet name he had called his sister when she was small.
    Giving a sigh, Meg looked up into her brother’s kind eyes. “It’s just so hard,” she whispered.
    “Ask Jesus to help you, Meg. He will, you know.”
    Meg nodded and straightened. “Thanks Max. Papa and Aunt Jane are too busy to talk with me like this.”
    Stooping, Max reached under the shelf and pulled out the despised pencil. Handing it to his sister he said, “You finish your work and I’ll go finish algebra, then perhaps there will be time for a walk before supper.” And Meg bent over her paper with a smile.

Have you ever had the trouble Meg had?

What do you want posted next week?

Is there a story you think I should re-post?

Merry CHRISTmas!

Don't forget the real reason behind this wonderful celebration!

Merry Christmas!
 

 
 
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A Christmas Dinner

I'm a writer. And sometimes writers get inspired by strange things. And sometimes by not so strange things. This December I heard a song and my brain said, "Wouldn't that be fun to write into a story?" My Self agreed and I kept thinking that I would write it. But I was too busy. I kept hearing the song because, well, it's peppy and fun and my mom likes to listen to it while she washes the dishes. So I finally wrote it. It was fun. And I hope you enjoy this story. And the song that inspired it.

Christmas Dinner

    It was Christmas day. The air outside was crisp, and the snow sparkled and glittered across the farmyard in the late afternoon sunshine. Inside the house all was warm and cozy. Smells from the kitchen pervaded every nook and cranny of the snug farmhouse, from the living room where the large tree stood looking bare with all the gifts gone, to the farthest corner of the attic where empty boxes stood waiting to be filled once again with the ornaments and decorations of Christmas time.
    Rousing from his afternoon nap, Farmer Jones yawned and stretched. Standing up he sniffed the air and then, tucking his thumbs in his suspenders, he ambled from the living room. “Sure smells good, don’t it?” he remarked to his second son.
    Eighteen-year-old Jeremiah looked up from hanging his coat on the hook. “Sure does. Think Mother has dinner about ready, Pa?”
    “Sure hope so. I’ll go find out.”
    Sauntering down the hall through the dining room and into the kitchen, Farmer Jones sniffed again. The turkey smelled divine! His wife, an apron tied about her ample waist, was bustling here and there, a smudge of flour on her cheek and wisps of her hair curling about her face instead of staying properly in her bun.
    “Mother,” Farmer Jones said, “everybody’s starvin’. Let’s eat.”
    Mother Jones, as she was known far and wide, turned around, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Hold your horses, Father. I’ve got a million courses to get ready, and,” she waved her spoon with a shake of her head. “I’m fixing a treat! I could use some help though.”
    Quickly Father Jones turned around. He heard someone whistling and called out, “Jeremiah, go and help your mother.” Then, catching sight of the thirteen-year-old twins on the stairs, he added, “Jane and Jonah, you too.”
    The clatter of the twins’ feet was heard as they rushed down the stairs. No doubt they had been smelling the feast and were hungry.
    After checking in the living room and the library but not finding his other children, Farmer Jones looked out the front door. “Ah, there’s another one,” he thought to himself, hurrying to the door and swinging it wide open. “Hezekiah!” His shout caused the head of his third son to raise from the wood he had been stacking.
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Go and fetch your brother.”
    “Sure thing, Pa. Which one? And where is he?”
    “Jud. I ‘spect he’s in the barn with his horse.” When Hezekiah nodded, Father started to shut the door and then stuck his head out once more. “Then fetch Amy and Sue.”
    Hezekiah’s brown head nodded as he strode off toward the red barn.
    Patting his round stomach, Father shut the door and sighed. He could smell all those dishes Mother was fixing and he couldn’t wait to sit down with his family and partake. It was a favorite part of the Jones family Christmas day.
    It wasn’t long before Hezekiah and Jud could be heard stomping the snow off their boots on the porch. A gust of cold air came in with the boys and Father, turning from watching Jane, her pretty dark hair tied back with a red ribbon, set the table, saw Hezekiah start up the stairs, no doubt in search of the two youngest Jones girls.
    Things were in a bustle as Jed, and then Hezekiah, Amy, and Sue all joined in to help Mother get the food on. Father stayed out of the way. He was no help in the kitchen and knew it. As each steaming dish was brought to the table, his mouth watered even more. Finally he stationed himself before his chair at the head of the table and Jeremiah set the turkey down before him. It was golden brown and steam rose in a fragrant wave.
    As everyone found their places, the three oldest boys, Jud, Jeremiah and Hezekiah, on one side, Jane and Jonah, Amy and Sue on the other, and Mother at the food, Father smiled.
    “Mother, everybody’s happy. We’ve got a reason to smile.”
    Mother laughed her bright, bubbly laugh which caused smiles and a few giggles among her children. “That’s ‘cause you know that I’m about to serve a Christmas dinner country style.”
    “No doubt, Mother, no doubt. But let’s all sit and bow our heads. I’ll say grace, then we’ll break bread.”
    There was a slight shuffling as each person quickly sat down. Every head, light, dark, and a few browns, bowed reverently as Father gave thanks for the dinner and for Christmas and what it meant. After a hearty “Amen” from everyone present, heads were lifted and eyes sparkled at the knowledge that they were about to partake of Mother’s wonderful cooking.
    “Put your napkins in your lap, girls,” Mother reminded Amy and Sue.
    “While Jud pours cider from the tap,” added Father. “Is it fresh cider, Jud?”
    “Sure is, Pa. I made it yesterday with some of the apples from the cellar since we had such a lot.”
    There was so much food and it was passed along from one person to the next, across the table, clock-wise and counter-clock-wise. Turkey, both dark and white meat, ham, chestnut stuffing, huckleberry muffins, marshmallow yam, and cranberry sauce, rhubarb, and black-eyed peas. It was a feast to fill any hungry boy or girl. Or a dozen of them. Everyone ate and talked and ate some more. Seconds were had by everyone and the four boys even had thirds.
    “I think I’m ‘bout to explode, Mother,” Jane said, leaning back in her chair.
    “Me too,” echoed Amy and Sue.
    “Have a little pickled quince,” Jeremiah offered, holding out the dish.
    “Choose your pie, everyone,” Father instructed. “Pumpkin or mince.”
    No one refused. How could they when it was Mother who had made them? But at last no one could eat another bite.
    Leaning back in his chair, Father looked down the table at his wife and said, “Oh, dinner was grand, to say the least!” Glancing at his children seated on either side of the now ravished table, he added, with a nod toward Mother Jones, “Honor the lady who cooked this feast.”
    “Mother, thank you for the dinner!” Chorused all seven children.
    And Jonah added, “All the fixin’s were great!”
    A broad smile crossed Mother’s face. “Nothin’ to it. I’m mighty glad to do it, seein’ how much you ate! Now I shouldn’t have to feed you until spring.”
    A general laugh filled the dining room and then Jud pushed back his chair. “Well, it’s time to clear it all away. Come on. Jeremiah, get the turkey, or what’s left of it. Hezekiah, the ham platter. The rest of you start collecting the dishes. Mother, you and Father go sit in the living room and just relax.”
    With a smile, Mother stood up. “All right, but don’t you go and break any of my good china now.” It was something she said every year, and none of it had been broken except one saucer when Jeremiah was no larger than the family dog.
    Beaming, Father rose slowly, tucked his thumbs in his suspenders and stood a moment watching his children clear off the table. Then, with a sigh, he ambled slowly into the living room and built up the fire in the large stone fireplace before sinking down into his favorite chair. “That sure was a Christmas dinner, Mother,” he remarked.
    Wearily Mother rested her feet on the footstool and nodded. “It sure was.”

    Before long the children appeared in the doorway, their faces bright and no sign of having stuffed themselves.
    “Jeremiah,” Jane begged, “go and get your fiddle!”
    “Yeah, go get it,” eagerly pleaded Amy and Sue, while his brothers all nodded in agreement.
    “All right.” Jeremiah sauntered into the other room, and they could hear the sounds of the fiddle strings as he tested them. Soon he was back, lightly drawing the bow over the strings in a tune which set each foot to tapping.
    “Come on, Father, let’s dance,” begged Jane, hurrying to her father’s side.
    But Farmer Jones shook his head and patted his full stomach, “I’m too full of turkey and stuffing. Sorry, Janie, I ain’t takin’ a chance. Get one of your brothers to take you for a spin.”
    So, while Mother and Father sat watching, the six children, Jud and Amy, Hezekiah and Sue, and Jane and Jonah danced to the lively tunes Jeremiah brought forth from his fiddle.
    When at last the fiddler ceased and everyone sank laughing onto chairs and sofas, Father said, “It’s been a very, very merry Christmas. We’ve got reason to smile.” He looked around at each shining face “Mother, everybody loved your Christmas dinner country style.”

Here's the song that inspired it all. :)

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And have a wonderful Christmas Eve!

Peter's Christmas - Part 3

Merry Friday before Christmas!

Wow! Christmas is the day after tomorrow! Hard to believe. This week, no– this month, . . . actually–this year have flown by. But much to my astonished delight, I actually have everything that I "needed" to do before Christmas crossed off my list. Yep, now I can go read. :)  I love it when I get things done and can go read without feeling guilty. How about you? Are you ready for Christmas?

This is the last part of this story. I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to know what you think of it.

Peter's Christmas

Part 3

    The walk home didn’t seem to take as long. The wind had picked up, and I pulled off my jacket to place over the child in John’s arms. As the light of my lantern fell on the boy’s face, I saw that he had fallen asleep. His dirty face was tear-stained and one arm was around the neck of his new friend.

    When we stepped inside the house, Virginia, forgetful of her injured ankle, tried to stand up, holding out her arms for her young brother, but John said quickly, “Don’t get up, he’s all right.”
    “Oh, Peter!”
    The little boy, roused from his sleep by the lights, wrapped his arms about his sister’s neck. “I tried to help you,” he sobbed, “but it wasn’t there!”
    For several minutes we all stood around and watched. Then my wife motioned us to the dining room. “I’ve kept your supper hot,” she said. “The girls and I have already eaten.”
    “Peter should eat too,” I said, glancing back into the living room where the reunited siblings continued to cling to each other.
    Mary nodded. “I know, but I don’t think Virginia is going to let him go.”
    “Let me try,” John said quietly.
    I don’t know what he said, but within five minutes he was back with Peter and, after the two of them had washed their hands, they sat down together to eat.

    Virginia wanted to return to their boarding house once Peter had eaten, but I shook my head. “No, the doctor said you weren’t to use that foot for a while, and I have a feeling that if you were to go home, you wouldn’t follow those orders.” The young woman colored and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Now,” I continued, “we’ll bed Peter down on a cot in the boys’ room, and you can sleep in Dorothy’s room.”
    “But I don’t want to put her out,” protested Virginia. “I can sleep on the couch. I don’t mind, really. The tree smells so lovely, and it’s decorated so nice . . .” her voice trailed off as her gaze rested on the tree.
    “It’s not putting me out,” Dorothy said. “I have an extra bed in my room, and I’d love to have a room mate. You can enjoy the tree tomorrow. You said you didn’t have to go back to work until the day after Christmas. Why don’t you just stay here until then?”
    My oldest daughter’s impulsiveness brought approval from her brothers and sisters.
    “But we can’t impose. Christmas is for families and–”
    But John interrupted. “Then pretend we are family. And, if you won’t do it for your own sake, do it for Peter’s. He needs a special Christmas this year.”
    The appeal for Peter’s sake was the deciding factor, for Virginia looked down at her sleepy brother as he sat beside her, and nodded.

    Peter’s chatter enlivened the breakfast table the next morning. His inquisitive questions sometimes puzzled even John and me, and we were obliged to tell the little fellow we didn’t know. Since it was Christmas Eve day, I didn’t have to work and enjoyed being home with my family. All morning long Peter was a shadow, and not a very silent one either. He followed John and Charles around the house, outside, and even down the road to return a lantern which had been left at our house the night before.
    Stuck on the couch with her injured ankle up on a pillow, Virginia didn’t suffer from lack of company. Dorothy seemed to think it her special task to wait upon our guest’s every whim, though Virginia was anything but demanding. Even Ruth and Alice could be found in the living room listening as Virginia told stories.
    After lunch, Dorothy suggested they make fudge. When Mary gave assent, John carried Virginia to the kitchen, while Charles brought a rocker, and Ruth and Peter dragged in a footstool. I was going to take a nap but paused long enough to see the candy making well established. There was a bright glow on Virginia’s face, and I wondered how long it had been since she had spent even a few carefree hours enjoying herself.
    “Christmas is coming!” Peter sang, climbing up on a chair beside John.
    “What would that child’s Christmas Eve have been like had he not run up to that cabin?” I mused half to myself.
    “It would probably have been a much lonelier and quieter one,” Mary replied.
    I nodded. “Mary, we’ll have to see to it that both those children aren’t forgotten after Christmas.”
    “I don’t think they will be.” And my wife smiled knowingly.

    That evening, after the supper dishes were washed and everyone had settled down, Charles plugged in the Christmas tree lights and turned off all the others. A hush fell even over Peter who sat on the couch between his sister and John. There was no snow outside and no prospect of any for tomorrow, but no one minded. Silently I let my gaze wander around the room. The younger ones were looking at the many presents which lay wrapped under the branches of the tree. That afternoon Dorothy and I had driven over to Mrs. Mead’s and picked up the few presents Virginia had for Peter. We did a little shopping of our own before we returned and now, though she didn’t say anything, I could tell my oldest daughter was fairly bursting with our secrets.
    Then Peter’s young voice broke the silence. Somehow I knew he would be the first to talk. “That house did do it,” he stated.
    “Do what, Peter,” his sister asked, taking one of his small hands in her own.
    “It made everything all right and made you happy again. I tried to find something for you for Christmas, to make your sadness go away, Ginia, but–” he giggled, “I didn’t find anything. ‘Stead Mr. John and Mr. Hampton found me, and now everything is happy again.”
    I didn’t miss the look my eldest son gave Virginia, and I didn’t need more lights than those on the Christmas tree to know she was blushing. It would be a very special day tomorrow. I reached out for my wife’s hand. Somehow I knew that none of us would forget Peter’s Christmas. Especially John and Virginia.

Did you like it?

What do you think happened after that?

Tomorrow I have a very short story for you. 

Will you be back?

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Let It Snow Lamp

I had so much fun making this Christmas-y, winter-ish lamp.

We already had the lamp part made and it had been filled with other things in the past. But my sis-in-law and I were talking about it after Thanksgiving and she suggested I fill it with red Christmas balls. I didn't end up with enough to add, so . . . I did something different. I had seen many different "snow-globes" the people had made on Pinterest. Some had used fishbowls and other jars. That's what gave me the idea.

First I put some batting in to keep things up a little. Next I put some of the "fake snow" you can get at any craft store. This wasn't much, just enough to cover the top of the batting and give it some "sparkle." Next came the lighthouse and trees. I sprayed the outside of the jar with "santa snow" so that it would look like it was snowing. The back of the jar I sprayed heavier, while the front was just a light snow so you could still see inside.

What do you think? Doesn't it sort of look like it's snowing inside? Have you ever made a "snow-globe" jar or something?

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Deck the Halls

I thought I'd give you a look at some of our decorations this year.

 

This is what you'll find out our font porch. My sister-in-law had the idea and told my dad what she wanted. He cut the pieces for her and she created this rustic Nativity. And yes, there are lights in the hay, I mean straw, that we turn on at night.

 

This is one of my favorite places to decorate. On top we have our Nativity scene. (Sorry, the picture cut off a bit of it.) Inside the cabinet, on the top shelf we have Mr. and Mrs. Clause from my dad's mom, or his grandma (I don't remember which.) On the next shelf we have two little angels from my mom's side of the family. And the stocking, that was my dad's when he was a little boy.

But the message on the top says it all.

"For unto us a Savior is born."

 

And here is our Christmas tree. Yes, it is fake. Sorry. We would have all loved to have our traditional huge Christmas tree, but sometimes we just don't have the money for something like that. So, we decided to get a fake tree that we can use on the years we can't afford a real tree. It's not too bad. :)

This year I ended up decorating it all by myself. And it ended up rather elegant. I used strings of gold beads, red, white and gold balls and little silver bells.  

 

This is something I cut out last year. It was so much fun to cut all the details. It sits on our piano.

 

Across the room from the tree, the cabinet, and the piano, is the village of Garlandsburg. Sorry, I haven't had any time to take you on a tour of it this year. Hopefully next year I can. This is probably my favorite corner of the village with the hill, the water, and the houses.

Now, let me take you into the kitchen.

 

This is my dad's desk. Well, the wall and part of what is on his desk. ;)

 

And our window seats. Yep, we have two large window seats in the kitchen. They open up for storage, and the windows look out into the "bird area" where we have a bird bath and feeders. We hang all the Christmas cards we get on the garlands over each window which makes it nice. The grandkids love the books on the shelves and are often found curled up on the window seats reading or looking at books.

 

And this is above the washer and dryer. Or rather, the shelf above them. I did a more out-doors, winter theme this year. Some years we've had a gingerbread theme.

  And here we are in the hall looking down through the garland and lights that frame the doorways. The lights you see at the far end are the village. And yes, those are bookshelves on the right side of the picture. And they are full of some of our over 5,000 books.

Now let me take you upstairs.

 

These trees are at the top of the stairs. The picture didn't capture the gleam of the beads. Sorry.

 

And this is another favorite place to look at. Our stair railing. Usually we have garland wrapped around the tall pillar and lights reaching from the ceiling to the floor. But this year my mom suggested we do a "peppermint" theme. It was so much easier to wrap the wide ribbon than the garlands! And packing tape holds them on! I added a garland and lights on the top railing and hung fake candy canes and draped sparkling red beads among the branches.

And that, my dear readers, is a glimpse of our decorations. We do have icicle lights on the porches, and a small tree in my room on my desk. My parents' room also has the rest of the village (we out grew the living room several years ago) and two little trees. This year we didn't do as much as we have before when we've held an Open House. Then we have every room decorated! But I was thankful we weren't doing that this year as I did almost all the decorating myself since everyone else was much too busy.

I hope you enjoyed the tour.

 

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Christmas Joy

I came across this video and thought you all might enjoy it too.

I hope you all feel the joy of this season!

We had the lovely winter weather hit our area yesterday afternoon and temperatures were in the single digits last night with windchill of -12º. Yeah. Cold. The roads were bad enough that church was cancelled this morning, but we're still planning on having the Christmas program tonight! 

 

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