Family Goes to 11
"sages, leave your contemplation
brighter visions beam afar
seek the great desire of nations
you have seen His natal star"
-James Montgomery, "Angels from the Realms of Glory"
Sharon's parents arrive in Grove City tonight (actually, they arrive in Pittsburgh and then we bring them here, which is still technically arriving to them but it always feels funny for the person driving them in to say it) and they're here through part of the 21st. Sharon's sister and brother-in-law arrive on the 16th, so our new house will finally be full. It should be fun.
On the 23rd we bail out of here and head to Amarillo to see my family until the 30th. I don't know exactly what my family's plans are, but I hoping that during that stretch we'll also get to see my brother and his wife and my nephews and nieces.
I'm glad for Christmas; it gives an opportunity for people to go reconnect with family even if they live far away. Obviously not everybody can, so this isn't to make you feel guilty if you can't. I'm just excited about seeing everybody and celebrating together. Neither of our families are perfect (whose are?) but they're fun and it should be a good time.
(If you don't know the title reference, by the way, watch Spinal Tap.)
Asher is, of course, way excited about everybody coming to his house (that Sharon and I live here and, you know, pay the mortgage doesn't seem to bother this notion in the least) and he's going to show them his toys and his TV and his bear and his blanket and his potty and so on. Obviously that part will wear off after everybody has been here for an hour, but then something else will happen that I bet will take the edge off:
Candy.
Everybody eats at Christmas. I used to not realize this, since the food is so spread out over time. At Thanksgiving, you stuff yourself until you feel like you're going to burst, and even though many people do that at Christmas, it's not really the focus of the holiday so you don't think about it as much. Christmas, on the other hand, already has candy from Asher's advent calendar and the cookies Sharon wanted to make and the divinity candy I wanted to make and the Christmas candy we're gonna buy and the additional cookies or pies or cakes we're gonna make while with family. It's a tidal wave of sugar, and Asher surfs it like a pro.
"The wedding guests can't mourn as long as the groom is with them, can they? But the time will come when the groom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast."
-Jesus speaking in Matthew 9:15 (ISV)
I'm sure it'll be a hard habit to deal with in January when we go back to normal eating, but right now it's fun, and isn't that what celebrations are about?
For our Christmas thought, a long passage:
"When the Gospel was first preached, Roman laughed at the idea of a God become flesh. Oh, sure, a god might have a little fling with a mortal woman and then disappear to better realms, but no real mixing, please. You know your side of the tracks, the gods know theirs. God become flesh — hilarious!
Instead of laughing, we've done a sleight of hand to turn the celebration of the Incarnation — presto chango — into Christmas. Into the hat we stuff a fleshly God; out pops tinsel, wrapping paper, photos of children with starry eyes. The incarnation? Hocus-pocus backwards — no, this is not my body, not my blood, God's very flesh tucked up my sleeve.
Dig under the stockings, credit card bills, Christmas concert programs. Pull of layers of carols, drifts of snow, a gingerbread house recipe and — oh, my God! What is it? A baby! Not a silent, glow-in-the-dark symbol of benign blessing on farm animals. The merconium, the squalling cries, the desperate need for warm breast, for eyes to search his; God is naked and not ashamed.
The feast of the Incarnation is the time to celebrate God weak, a day to dance to the descending scales of God's throwing off omniscience and omnipotence. We skirt past this powerful little pile of cast-off clothing. Like the magazine reflection of a starving boy's eyes, the bruises of an abused girl on the news — our eyes cannot adjust to this. We do not want this God, whose glory is so dim we strain to see it."
-Mary Ellen Ashcroft, "Dogspell"
brighter visions beam afar
seek the great desire of nations
you have seen His natal star"
-James Montgomery, "Angels from the Realms of Glory"
Sharon's parents arrive in Grove City tonight (actually, they arrive in Pittsburgh and then we bring them here, which is still technically arriving to them but it always feels funny for the person driving them in to say it) and they're here through part of the 21st. Sharon's sister and brother-in-law arrive on the 16th, so our new house will finally be full. It should be fun.
On the 23rd we bail out of here and head to Amarillo to see my family until the 30th. I don't know exactly what my family's plans are, but I hoping that during that stretch we'll also get to see my brother and his wife and my nephews and nieces.
I'm glad for Christmas; it gives an opportunity for people to go reconnect with family even if they live far away. Obviously not everybody can, so this isn't to make you feel guilty if you can't. I'm just excited about seeing everybody and celebrating together. Neither of our families are perfect (whose are?) but they're fun and it should be a good time.
(If you don't know the title reference, by the way, watch Spinal Tap.)
Asher is, of course, way excited about everybody coming to his house (that Sharon and I live here and, you know, pay the mortgage doesn't seem to bother this notion in the least) and he's going to show them his toys and his TV and his bear and his blanket and his potty and so on. Obviously that part will wear off after everybody has been here for an hour, but then something else will happen that I bet will take the edge off:
Candy.
Everybody eats at Christmas. I used to not realize this, since the food is so spread out over time. At Thanksgiving, you stuff yourself until you feel like you're going to burst, and even though many people do that at Christmas, it's not really the focus of the holiday so you don't think about it as much. Christmas, on the other hand, already has candy from Asher's advent calendar and the cookies Sharon wanted to make and the divinity candy I wanted to make and the Christmas candy we're gonna buy and the additional cookies or pies or cakes we're gonna make while with family. It's a tidal wave of sugar, and Asher surfs it like a pro.
"The wedding guests can't mourn as long as the groom is with them, can they? But the time will come when the groom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast."
-Jesus speaking in Matthew 9:15 (ISV)
I'm sure it'll be a hard habit to deal with in January when we go back to normal eating, but right now it's fun, and isn't that what celebrations are about?
For our Christmas thought, a long passage:
"When the Gospel was first preached, Roman laughed at the idea of a God become flesh. Oh, sure, a god might have a little fling with a mortal woman and then disappear to better realms, but no real mixing, please. You know your side of the tracks, the gods know theirs. God become flesh — hilarious!
Instead of laughing, we've done a sleight of hand to turn the celebration of the Incarnation — presto chango — into Christmas. Into the hat we stuff a fleshly God; out pops tinsel, wrapping paper, photos of children with starry eyes. The incarnation? Hocus-pocus backwards — no, this is not my body, not my blood, God's very flesh tucked up my sleeve.
Dig under the stockings, credit card bills, Christmas concert programs. Pull of layers of carols, drifts of snow, a gingerbread house recipe and — oh, my God! What is it? A baby! Not a silent, glow-in-the-dark symbol of benign blessing on farm animals. The merconium, the squalling cries, the desperate need for warm breast, for eyes to search his; God is naked and not ashamed.
The feast of the Incarnation is the time to celebrate God weak, a day to dance to the descending scales of God's throwing off omniscience and omnipotence. We skirt past this powerful little pile of cast-off clothing. Like the magazine reflection of a starving boy's eyes, the bruises of an abused girl on the news — our eyes cannot adjust to this. We do not want this God, whose glory is so dim we strain to see it."
-Mary Ellen Ashcroft, "Dogspell"
1 Comments:
There you go again with Mary Ellen Ashcroft. One would think you actually enjoyed her!
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