Merry Crithmath

Here are some highlights from our trip home for Christmas so far!
Me and my more than wonderful sister Jalen.

Mom, Jay, Me, Brig - new christmas jammies!

Meggy and I at the Giant's game - it is so good to be back home at the same time!

My Grandma Saip and my Dad

Kyle, Dave, and Gatlin at Jay and Kyle's Engagement Party

the call to be kind

Well although it has been an event-filled week, I have not put the time aside to blog about it until now. For the last month and a half, I have been rehearsing and preparing, along with a few others, for an upcoming Christmas-variety-drama-music-night. It has been a fantastic way to meet people from our new church, and I was so grateful to be a part of it. We had the performance tonight, and despite the -30 weather (gotta love Sask winters!) there was a full crowd. We will be heading back to Tsawwassen for Christmas on Friday - the days can't pass quickly enough! - so this was our last church-do until we return. It was a great night!

Over the course of getting ready for the program, I was able to connect with a lot of the people from the church who I might not have had the chance of getting to know otherwise.
There is one lady in particular, her name is Barbara, and I have honestly come to really love her in this short amount of time. She is unlike most people, extremely open and welcoming, always reading right where people are at, and offering up the most poignant pieces of advice and wisdom even despite not knowing people all that well. I really admire her honesty and loving approach to others. Sometimes when I meet people like that I feel as though I owe them something -like they are this way only for acknowledgment or for something in return- but I have seen just the opposite from Barbara. My step-dad always used to give my siblings and I this challenge: Are you kind when NO ONE is watching?
I still think back on that challenge today. often. I want to be the type of person who is kind for the sake of it. Not because I will benefit, but because others will. Just a thought!

Out of Touch for Christmas

We had our new small group over for a Christmas Party tonight. The theme was 'Out of Touch'.

Here is the evidence....

Painting and Snow

We decided, due to our entire apartment having white walls, that painting our white furniture black would be a good contrast for the dismal abiss of white that is our place. So here it is!

And here is the finished product!

And there it is! a little facelift for our furniture. I would still like to paint the walls at some point, but Dave isn't so keen. We'll see what happens...

We also had a snowfall this week - and the weather suddenly took a turn for the ultra-cold...I think it's minus 15 today. Needless to say we miss the Vancouver rain.

Tomorrow is my work Christmas Party, and then we are hosting an 'Out of Touch' Christmas Party for our new small group on Sunday Night. So expect more pictures soon! :)

December is here!

My wonderful sister sent this in an email to me a little while ago. I thought I should share it!

IT’S CHRISTMAS NIGHT
It's Christmas night. The house is quiet. Even the crackle is gone from the fireplace. Warm coals issue a lighthouse glow in the darkened den. Stockings hang empty on the mantle. The tree stands naked in the corner. Christmas cards, tinsel, and memories remind Christmas night of Christmas day.
It's Christmas night. What a day it has been! Spiced tea. Santa Claus. Cranberry sauce. "Thank you, so much." "You shouldn't have!" "Grandma is on the phone." Knee-deep wrapping paper. "It just fits." Flashing cameras. It's Christmas night. The girls are in bed. Jenna dreams of her talking Big Bird and clutches her new purse. Andrea sleeps in her new Santa pajamas. It's Christmas night. The tree that only yesterday grew from soil made of gifts, again grows from the Christmas tree stand. Presents are now possessions. Wrapping paper is bagged and in the dumpsite. The dishes are washed and leftover turkey awaits next week's sandwiches.
It's Christmas night. The last of the carolers appeared on the ten o'clock news. The last of the apple pie was eaten by my brother-in-law. And the last of the Christmas albums have been stored away having dutifully performed their annual rendition of chestnuts, white Christmases, and red-nosed reindeer.
It's Christmas night.
The midnight hour has chimed and I should be asleep, but I'm awake. I'm kept awake by one stunning thought. The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed. The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stop watches and weapons. We stepped off our racetracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.
It's the season to be jolly because, more than at any other time, we think of him. More than in any other season, his name is on our lips. And the result? For a few precious hours our heavenly yearnings intermesh and we become a chorus. A ragtag chorus of longshoremen, Boston lawyers, illegal immigrants, housewives, and a thousand other peculiar persons who are banking that Bethlehem's mystery is in reality, a reality. "Come and behold him" we sing, stirring even the sleepiest of shepherds and pointing them toward the Christ-child.
For a few precious hours, he is beheld. Christ the Lord. Those who pass the year without seeing him, suddenly see him. People who have been accustomed to using his name in vain, pause to use it in praise. Eyes, now free of the blinders of self, marvel at his majesty. All of a sudden he's everywhere. In the grin of the policeman as he drives his paddy wagon full of presents to the orphanage.
In the twinkle in the eyes of the Taiwanese waiter as he tells of his upcoming Christmas trip to see his children. In the emotion of the father who is too thankful to finish the dinner table prayer. He's in the tears of the mother as she welcomes home her son from overseas. He's in the heart of the man who spent Christmas morning on skid row giving away cold baloney sandwiches and warm wishes. And he's in the solemn silence of the crowd of shopping mall shoppers as the elementary school chorus sings "Away in a Manger." Emmanuel. He is with us. God came near.
It's Christmas night. In a few hours the cleanup will begin -- lights will come down, trees will be thrown out. Size 36 will be exchanged for size 40, eggnog will be on sale for half-price. Soon life will be normal again. December's generosity will become January's payments and the magic will begin to fade. But for the moment, the magic is still in the air. Maybe that's why I'm still awake. I want to savor the spirit just a bit more. I want to pray that those who beheld him today will look for him next August. And I can't help but linger on one fanciful thought: if he can do so much with such timid prayers lamely offered in December, how much more could he do if we thought of him every day?
Max Lucado