Given his diet Greg knew he shouldn’t eat much of anything on the menu. As a compromise he ordered a huge bowl of nachos with sour cream, guacamole and “the works”, whatever that was, and shared it with everyone at the table. It went well with their burgers and beers and Greg had plenty himself.
“Hmmm,” Greg thought, “Those nachos taste good.” He wondered if he should break his diet and risk ordering a burger and beer.
He thought and thought and thought and thought and decided not to since by that time everyone else had thankfully finished theirs.
When I think of Christmas I think of decorated trees, presents, special food, family, quiet, cold wintry nights – and snow. Here are some photographs of snowy scenes from last year. Annette Rochelle Aben reminded me in one of her recent posts of this Christmas song that may fit these photos:
Michael Bublé, Let It Snow, Rubi Malik’s YouTube Channel.
Christmas is the traditional time to celebrate the birth of Jesus although He was not likely born on this date. Joseph Lenard argued that Jesus was born on the Feast of Trumpets (specifically, September 11, 3 BC, at the beginning of the Jewish civil year, Tishri 1, or Rosh Hashanah). David Pawson argued that Jesus was born later in Tishri during the Feast of Tabernacles. Richard Lanser argued that Jesus was born on March 20, 6 BC, on Nisan 1. There may be arguments for other dates that I’m unaware of.
Pawson, however, pointed out something important in his argument. The supernatural event was not the birth, but the conception of Jesus nine months earlier recorded in Luke 1:26-38. He pointed out that a virgin could theoretically give birth to a baby girl through parthenogenesis, but not to a baby boy. This reaffirms the significance of conception in human life.
Regardless of when Jesus was actually born, winter is a good time for a celebration and Jesus is worth remembering at any time of the year.
I am also linking this to Trent P. McDonald’s The Weekly Smile. I began writing the post on Saturday, December 5th, which happened to be my own birthday. That thought led to a realization this past week that has given me many reasons to smile, with gratitude to all of our parents and to the grace of God, that we have all been assigned to this same time together.
And so, my fellow assignees, may all of you, friend and foe alike, have a blessed Advent and a Merry Christmas.
Snow for Christmas
Crystal Grimes is hosting a Holiday Blogging Party. I am linking this post to that party.
I gave my brother peeled apple slices. He placed them one-by-one on the strudel dough that we older ones helped stretch across a cloth on our dinner table. He put some in his mouth. Then came the raisins to scatter on the dough. When it was finished I held him so he could watch our mother lift the cloth underneath the strudel, roll it into a long, thick pastry that fit on a cookie sheet and place it in the oven.
We made many strudels for Christmas and everyone helped.
I’ve never had a dessert that tasted so good.
Linked to Carrot Ranch where Charli Mills offers the theme of family traditions.
Clara remembered how concerned she was when she lost her hair band. She asked her father to find it. He did.
That was Clara’s earliest memory of him, and a pleasant one, but others were painful. With a rebellious daughter of her own she traded positions with her father. Clara, too, would have searched the streets for any hair band her daughter dropped, but her daughter no longer accepted assistance from her.
That may be what a memorial service is good for. It gets regrets out in the open and breaks habits one wished had been broken long ago.
Linked to Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle Wisoff-Fields offers C. E. Ayer’s photo as a prompt for stories of 100 words or less.
The open beams joined the walls showing the ceiling and the loft where they slept. These beams pressed low enough that Ben could reach up and touch them in their cabin in the Maine woods.
This morning like those beams his spirit pressed in on him, but Ben had no time for moody temptations. Toward evening as he removed his boots and outer coverings he felt a breeze of consolation. He knew that consolation would come if he were faithful which he was.
Rushing to him he lifted his three-year old son and smiled watching his wife add decorations to their small Christmas tree.
Jim opened the certified package from his friend, Steve, whom he had not seen in fifty years. There was a letter and a copy of The Imitation of Christ that Jim gave Steve decades ago. Steve saw the book while sorting through boxes and decided to return it after finding Jim’s address.
A few months before receiving the package Jim wondered how his life veered off course getting lost in a moral dessert. How did he get from being a teenager who could attend Mass with joy to become an old man who barely had a clue?
Jim cautiously opened the worn book and began reading smelling the fresh air of an oasis amidst its aging pages.
Looking at the shadow of its chimney I remembered the cabin full of mosquitoes. Mr. McGregor told me they couldn’t get into the bedroom. There was a shower, a woodstove, and a bed. I would only be there a few weeks. Given the bear warnings it would be better than my tent.
Incidentally, there was also a ghost that rattled stuff, but so did the wind.
When I left I told Mr. McGregor about the ghost. He apologized. Normally he wouldn’t have rented the cabin, but I seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn’t mind Megan. I didn’t.
Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths. The way of peace they know not; and there is no judgment in their goings: they have made them crooked paths: whosoever goeth therein shall not know peace.
The wax from a single candle dripped onto the cupcake. Jim let the candle flatten burning itself out in silence. After removing the wax he stood in front of his wife Mary’s grave and ate the cake.
Jim didn’t expect to be here given his own health conditions, but he promised Mary he’d come back yearly as long as he could with a cake and candles marking her “birthday into Heaven”.
Jim’s final cake had seven candles on it. It was made by friends from their small church who pushed Jim in his wheelchair to the gravesite and then celebrated Mary’s birthday with him.
For years Bill enjoyed beer, pizza and ice-cream. When diagnosed with an autoimmune disease he changed his diet.
Someone told him to stop drinking beer. He stopped. Someone suggested avocado toast. What’s that? He was told it’s obvious what that is. So he tried it. Someone said to stop eating pizza. Is that because of the wheat? Yes. There goes the toast.
Bill’s weight sank to normal and he felt better. He noticed he was spending less on food than before. Thankfully no one told him to stop eating avocados, but then he no longer asked them for advice.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 