blessed beyond measure

Surely I write only to myself now, with nary a shred of posting regularity over the last several months. And so be it. This is scrapbooking for dummies, after all. There are many excuses. Oh, I could blame the heck out of some stuff. Like the exorbitant amount of housework and organization accomplished, mere moments before no less than thirty long lost family members descended upon us the weekend before Christmas. Or like the truancy of my firstborn, who took it upon himself to skip school for two days in order to avoid on-stage rehearsal of the Kindergarten Christmas program. Oh, Trey. Don't even get me started. At this point I daily scour the mirror, certain to find my first gray hair. Or the endless antics of Taz, who, in the span of just a few hours, rode his new bicycle down the steps outside the basement, then later helped himself to a solid bite of soap in the bathtub. That's my Aden, the armload of boy who now climbs out of his crib with ease. Life as I kno...

As our thoughts turn toward the end of one year and the beginning of the next, and as we reflect upon and rejoice over the strange and beautiful way our Savior came to us, this family wishes yours a peaceful, joyous, memory-rich Christmas, filled with God's greatest blessings. So wrap our injured flesh around you breathe the air and walk our sod rob our sin and make us holy perfect Son of God perfect Son of God welcome to our world

A little ADOSD (attention deficit ooh-shiny disorder, on the way up the aisle), a little deer-in-the-headlights, a spontaneous stage-dive attempt, and a camel-kicking session (for which, unfortunately, the camera was not running). All in a night's work for a two-year-old sheep in a church Christmas play. Between Aden's antics, the three-year-old shepherds walking around threatening to hit people with their sticks, and three-year-old Mary and Joseph tug-of-warring over Baby Jesus, you know it's Christmas.