Sweet Things, Pine Trees, and Christmas Memories

Now that my last test of the year and my birthday are both officially over, finished, and put behing me, it's finally beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. Earlier in the month we had a gingerbread house decorating party at church. It was a beautiful afternoon of fellowship, fun, and sweet things to eat. Sweet Christmas-y things to eat. Fabulousness. 

Peach rings! Be still my heart...

A few days after my birthday, we ventured out into the frigid Los Angeles night to find a Christmas tree. After trudging through the forest for three hours, we finally found the perfect one. A few swift strokes of my father's axe, and we fell the tree and carried it home on our shoulders; singing O Tannenbaum all the way home.

Um.

Not really.

That is my finding-a-Christmas-tree fantasy, but our actual experience was still exciting. I wore lace-up boots so I could have tried to imagine myself in a prairie forest... Yeah. Not really. Moving on now. The Christmas Tree Lot did have the perfect tree for us, though, and we had a lovely time decorating it as a family while we listened to Swedish Christmas music and ate spice cookies.

Every year my parents present me with a new ornament. At the end of every season, it gets placed in my box. My box of memories; precious memories from Christmases past. Ornaments dating all of the way back to my very first Christmas when I was less than two weeks old. My box of memories. 

This year, my mama handed me my ornament. Daddy had picked it out for me and it is perfect. A scene from the children's book Guess How Much I Love You; a book that Daddy read to me when I was little. Sweet memories, but delicate nonetheless. 

Once the tiny decorations had been passed around, we all took turns hanging them on the fresh pine tree that we brought home. (I love the way that our home smells at Christmastime.)

Mama got out a wooden nativity and Cora played with it in wonder. Mary, Joseph... Jesus. He is the true reason for this beautiful season. He is the Way. He is the Truth. He is the Life. And we celebrate His blessed birth this Christmas season. 

We relived an old holiday tradition this year. Putting together Max, my grandparents' wooden reindeer. When we were little, Connor and I used used to go over every year and build Max with Poppop and then Grandma would give us churros afterwards. We hadn't put Max together since my Grandma passed away, and this year it was wonderful to go over and help Poppop put Max together.

Curtis never smiles like this when he knows that I'm taking his picture so I had to be sneaky to get a real, genuine smile out of him. Goodness, I have such a handsome little brother.

These cute peoples asked me to take their picture...

...and then they charged me.

Theresa and I helped too.

We have pictures of me sitting in Max. We have pictures of Connor sitting in Max. We have pictures of Curtis sitting in Max. This year, it was Cora's turn. 

After our labours, we ventured out to Barnes & Noble to pick up some Christmas gifts and then had lunch at a deli nearby. 

Best. Soup. In. The World. Chicken Rice and Bagel Chips.

Oh, and did I mention that we ordered sweet potato fries? Yum.

Thank you, Father, for sending your Son to earth as a helpless baby. Help us not to lose sight of Him in the midst of pretty-wrapped gifts, cookies, cakes, and candies, time with friends and family, sharp-smelling pine trees, and fragile memories. You are the reason for the season and, as wonderful as Christmas traditions are, they mean nothing without a saving knowledge of You.