Happy New Year

I tried a little experiment over the New Year's break.




Whew!



I didn't touch a computer for FIVE days.


For many of you this feat wouldn't be huge.


But over the past two years computer access has become more and more important to me.


Beyond the Dregs I manage another blog, Novel Reviews, and post one day a week at Novel Journey. (I know. I can't believe they'd let me touch either blog. I think there was some sort of mix-up in the paperwork. Don't tell any one, K?)


Then, of course, is the endless correspondence with all of my fabulous visitors and writing comrades.


And would a day be complete without a little mindless drivel?


I think not.


Speaking of mindless drivel...well, maybe not yet. Let me ponder it further before sharing.

Scribble and Scrambles - More Than My Front Teeth

I didn't think to ask for front teeth this year since I am in possession of mine, but the goggles might be on my list for next year. Especially if they are magnifying.

I don't know this cute child, but Mr. Microsoft does. So I borrowed her since I thought she fit quite nicely with both my bent toward the twisted and the thought of the day. Great gifts.

My Christmas oozed blessings. I mentioned my bookshelves in passing the other day.

My husband delivered. Big time. I've snapped some pictures that I'll post in the very near future.

My daughter-in-law (and son) gifted me with a pan. Some wouldn't consider this a great gift. But, my daughter-in-law watched me do my burn avoidance dance when cooking in my favorite pan a few months ago. A favorite pan I can't toss. The handle is gone and has been for years, but if the hot pads are thick enough, it can still be used. And if it can still be used, it seems that the purchase of a replacement is extravagant. Her thoughtfulness birthed a guilt-free gift.

Now, the only thing that will get too warm when I cook is my heart.

She may have to wrestle the old one out of my hands and force me to part with it, though.

My oldest daughter gave me slippers with warming packs for tired, achy feet. My husband wrapped an assortment of lip balms and chocolates. Are you beginning to see why I feel especially loved?

We received two gifts of money that will move the remodeling to the next level.

My brother gave each of my children a journal and used the first few pages to pen his thoughts and memories of who they were as children and how he sees them as they have morphed into adults or near-adult.

So far I haven't mentioned the cleanliness of the house or the Martha Stewart-like food presentation. Oh, we had candles and goodies galore. But the good stuff, the keepers were the slivers of time and laughter and shared memories.

I played and lost five games of Settlers of Catan. The winners and losers laughed until fudge came out our noses. (Not really, but I do like the visual.) The scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee filled the air while we prayed together and read the Christmas story Christmas morning. Candlelight filled the church sanctuary on Christmas Eve while we sang Silent Night.

Now, I wait for the next celebration. Visitors are coming to stay. More laughing, more eating, more memories just waiting to be built.

I do love this time of year.

Hope the rest of 2007 is especially wonderful for you and yours.

Serials and Scenarios - Merry Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

God's Gift of Love

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

Love. It seems as though everyone these days is either in desperate avoidance of it, in the heart wrenching process of losing it, or in the giddy throes of finding it. Some have given up on it while others believe they will know it when they see it. All of us hope when it’s our turn, the love we get - and give - will be unconditional.

But can flawed humans really offer unconditional love?

Oh, we try. If you’re a parent you know the depth of love you felt the first moment you saw that precious baby of yours. Then there’s the feelings you carried up the aisle to join your beloved at the altar. Or perhaps love to you is counted by the nights spent at a parent’s bedside. The thread of love winds through each of these, and yet it is the rare parent, spouse, or child who would admit to having loved perfectly. We are human and sadly flawed, even when we act with the best of intentions.

There is only one unconditional love that never fails. Only one love that never turns a blind eye, says the wrong thing, or procrastinates rather than acts. The love of the Father, our Heavenly Father, is perfect in every way. Not only is His love unconditional, but He also loves us in spite of who we are and not for what we are. How wonderful to know that the God of the universe loves us.

Not just love in the way we see it, the stars-in-our-eyes crazy-about-my-baby love, but a depth of feeling exponentially more than anything our flawed but well intentioned hearts could imagine.

So today, when you’re reminded that tiny baby, Jesus Christ the Creator-made-flesh, think of the love it took to accomplish this holy miracle of unconditional love. To put on the fingers and toes of an infant and come to us as Savior was the beginning of a love story that has no end.

Kathleen Y’Barbo

Kathleen Y'Barbo is the author of Beloved Castaway and countless other books. For more information visit http://www.kathleenybarbo.com/.

Kelly's comments -- Today I thank God for His love. I hope you find it everywhere you look today. Merry Christmas.

Serials and Scenarios - Eleventh Day Gift

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

God's Gift of An Uncluttered Christmas

by Cyndy Salzmann

It was enough to curl my toes. And a quick glance at the other mother’s in the audience told me I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

So what horrendous experience caused such a reaction from a room full of moms? A violent or sexually explicit movie? A challenge from Doctor Phil to “get real” and ‘fess up about our parenting faux pas? Or a pan of the audience spotlighting a really bad hair day?

Actually, the event that caused such a panic among this audience of mothers occurred during the Christmas program at my daughter’s school.

Things started innocently enough when the girls marched out onto the stage swinging colorful shopping bags. Of course, they were adorable and the apples of their mothers’ eyes. The trouble began when the girls opened their mouths and sang…

Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

Scurry! Scurry! Scurry!

Worry! Worry! Worry!

Christmastime is here!

As I said, it was enough to curl my toes. Just the thought of all that hurrying, scurrying and worrying to prepare for Christmas gave me a full-blown a hot flash. No wonder depression peaks during the holidays. Faced with all that stress , I wouldn’t want to get out of bed either.

Once my hot flash ceded, I began to realize that this is just where Satan wants us – dreading the celebration of the most precious gifts to mankind – the birth of Jesus Christ. And frankly, it made my blood boil – almost bringing on another hot flash. I decided right then that he wasn’t going to get away with it.

We have a choice on how much hurrying, scurrying and worrying we do. And this year I hope you’ll make a commitment to join me in uncluttering your Christmas by jumping off the treadmill and keeping your eyes on the true reason for the season.

BTW- I have a tip sheet with practical ideas and advice to help you to simplify your holidays and focus on Jesus’ birth. Just contact me at cyndy@cyndysalzmann.com and I’ll email you a copy.

Cyndy Salzmann is the author of Crime & Clutter, book two in the highly acclaimed Friday Afternoon Mystery series published by Howard Books. As America’s Clutter Coach, Cyndy is a popular national speaker and radio personality. Cyndy, her husband and three children, live in Omaha, Nebraska. For more information visit http://www.cyndysalzmann.com/

Kelly's Comments..........................

I'm relaxed. Some might call it a stupor.

I prefer relaxed. Stupor sounds so...unhealthy.

So, it's 12:33 a.m. on December 24th and I have people coming to my home for dinner in seventeen hours and I'm blogging.

Why? Because the resident carpenter is wiring the ceiling.

Yes, it's late for a carpenter to be hard at work, but he prefers to do the home stuff fueled on caffeine and adrenaline.

You know how one of the military branches had the slogan, "you'll do more before 9:00 a.m. than other people will do all day." Or something along those lines.

I think Rob's slogan is, "midnight, smidnight! Who needs stinkin sun!"

I can't clean since he is making more sawdust as I type. The cooking has progressed as far as it can. Why not blog? That way it looks like I'm involved in his project and supportive of his preferences, and I can accomplish something that needs to be done anyway.

Cyndy, do I get points for at least multi-tasking, with a good attitude, and a certain sense of joie de vivre?

I do have to report that my wonderful, handy husband brought home an early Christmas gift. Oak, hand-crafted book shelves. I'll be taking pictures of my library nook and posting them in the very near future.

Hope your Christmas Eve is full of peace and joy.

Lily and Lola Wish You a Merry Christmas...

And a Happy New Year.

Serials and Scenarios - Tenth Day Gift - Memories

God's Gift of Memories

by Marlo Schalesky

Memory is a powerful thing. We hear a song from our high school days and we’re transported to sweaty school dances and blasting the radio in our first car. The smell of brownies baking takes us back to pigtails and ponies. We drive by the house we lived in as a kid and remember the swingset in the backyard and how that rotten kid from next door blew spitwads through the hole in the fence.

Ever gotten sick on a type of food? You’ll never want to have that again. And don’t even think about naming your child after that whiny little brat that sat behind you in the fourth grade, even if your spouse loves that name.

Memory. It’s why we treasure photos, display mementos, keep in touch with people from our past. It’s why God set up festivals for the ancient Israelites and told them to erect memorials at significant places in their history.

Memory. It’s why the sight of a stuffed stocking takes me back to those early mornings in my childhood when my brother and I would wake up before dawn, run to the fireplace, get our stockings, and race back to my parents’s bed. Mom was always ready. Dad pretended to complain. And together, with lots of giggling and the thrill of anticipation, we’d pull out the gifts from our stockings one by one. Simple things, boring really. Candy. A toothbrush. Some silly plastic toy. Things that would be used up or forgotten in just a few short weeks. And yet, opening stockings is my favorite Christmas memory from childhood.

Why? I think it’s because good memories are not necessarily made from the “big stuff.” Rather, they’re fashioned out of warmth and happiness and times together. They’re woven with laughter, colored with simple, plain joy. They come from times when you experience love.

So, this year, I’m thinking about the memories I’m making now, for my kids, and for myself. I don’t want those memories to be ones of a Mom who’s running around with too much to do and too little time to do it. I don’t want them to be of hustle, bustle, shopping, wrapping, cooking, cards, and gifts thrown under the tree. I don’t even want them to be of the cool stable-and-horse set that my girls will unwrap on Christmas morning. Or the cheap kid’s guitar for my oldest (age 7), or the new “ooo-ahh” (stuffed gorilla) for one of my 2-year-old twins.

Because the toys will break, get old, get lost, or they’ll outgrow them. But they won’t outgrow the happy memories of family times together. The memories of decorating Christmas cookies with laughter and joking – those won’t get old. The times we make a gingerbread house together, or sit down and watch the Grinch – those won’t break. The simple things make the best memories. Times when we’re together as a family, having fun, enjoying the traditions we’re building together.

So, that’s my goal this Christmas, to weave memories of peace, love, togetherness, because that’s the best gift I can think of to celebrate Jesus’ birth -- Memories that bring a smile to the face of children . . . and to the face of the King.

For more about the power of memories in our lives, check out Marlo's next novel, Beyond the Night, releasing in May. A woman in a hospital bed, a man sitting beside her, and between them, a memory that can set her free. Find out more at: http://www.marloschalesky.com/

Kelly's thoughts....

I've shared some of my favorites over the past couple of days. I suppose since I'm listening to the Passion of the Christ soundtrack and IMing my youngest while she faces a huge challenge --two and a half hours from home-- I'm feeling a little pensive.

I remember the Christmas that Rob and I were separated.

And I'm celebrating the fact that we are together today. That we will share another Christmas together, in spite of the odds, in spite of the past pain.

What about you? Do you have someone on your list who needs your forgiveness this Christmas? Do you have someone on your list who needs a glimpse of your heart? Or maybe a dose of truth? Do you need to wrap up some kindness or mercy? Does your tree need to be draped in grace or the meal sprinkled in love? Does someone need your shared memories as an encouragement to get through a rough spot?

Give and accept the gift of love this Christmas. Life's too short to put it off any longer.

Serials and Scenarios - Gift of Story - Ninth Day of Christmas

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

God's Gift of Dreams and Story

by Melody Carlson

A dream doesn’t always seem like a gift from God, but sometimes I’ll experience one so vivid and amazing that I can’t help but think God is at work. I remember a dream that woke me in the middle of the night about ten years ago. I was so moved that I felt compelled to write it down. In my dream I saw a sweet angel who was distraught that Jesus was about to leave heaven to be born as a baby on earth. So she volunteered to give up being an angel and God transformed her into a magnificent star to light the night sky for the Big Event.

I won’t tell the entire dream, but simply let it be said that the ending surprised everyone—including me. The story became a children’s Christmas book called The Greatest Gift (which is currently out of print). But as a result of that dream, I began to pay even more attention to my dreams. Sometimes I think that God simply uses them to show me things about my own life and sometimes my dreams wind up in my books.

Melody Carlson is the author of Ready to Wed, (Guideposts Books 2007). This story also involves a dream! For more information visit http://www.melodycarlson.com/

I have always loved books, far more than the words and the stories within. Those are reason enough to love books but I delight in what they represent.

Books are connectedness. Opening a book immediately connects me to the author. The characters reach out and grab my imagination and often heart. But even better than intimacy within the covers of a book, is the intimacy that has occurred with my children and husband as we've read books together.

Not just story books, oh, we did those, devouring Dr. Seuss, Monster at the End of this Book, The Berenstain Bears, and my favorite book from childhood, The Bull Beneath the Walnut Tree, the one I read to my younger brothers. And as our family tastes grew with our children's physical milestones, we kept reading.

Our oldest honed his skills while reading segments of The Box Car Children stories. Once the kids were on their way to an exotic island and Jordan read the name of a port they passed through "Cheecheego" I can't remember which adult read next, but I do remember laughing hysterically that the foreign port was our very own Chicago. We all still laugh. In the same book, Rob read that the kids ate sea biscuits. Jordan got the giggles and sea biscuits were mentioned too often over the next few months.

Car trips have been enriched with the rhythm of my voice as I've read aloud from Little House on the Prairie, The Painted House, The Chronicles of Narnia. Now that our children are out of the nest or perched on the rim, ready to take flight, I still read to Rob.

Some of my favorite reading memories are tapping me on the shoulder, triggered by sights and smells of Christmas past. We read the Christmas story together and one of several favorites, The Tale of Three Trees, Why Christmas Trees Aren't Perfect, The Night Before Christmas. I can't think of a memory that touches my heart like the one of our family huddled over a book.

Delicious scents from the Christmas feast perfume the air, all of us are dressed in our Christmas finery. White lights twinkle from the Christmas tree and if it's a white Christmas from under the snow on the evergreen and light wrapped porch railing.

These memories last just a few moments. Just a stolen pocket of peace in the midst of stress and busyness. But I've discovered that these breathtaking pockets of intense emotion are the things that make up my happiness and contentment.

The tree falls over? That's life. But when I can laugh, it becomes a memory. The kid who just twenty minutes earlier had driven me to a nervous breakdown, cuddled up against my thigh while we read...blessed bliss. I've learned to find my Christmas dreams in the midst of my Christmas chaos and I don't know that I'd have it any other way.

I'm hoping you find joy and peace this Christmas.