Thanksgiving Weekend

Driving home from dinner with my parents last night around 8:00, Annie asleep in the backseat and Jemma ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at Christmas lights, Jason and I decided that we had crammed about as much into a single four-day period as was possible. We left for Petoskey at 8:00 a.m. Thanksgiving morning, returned Saturday mid-day (with a stop en route in Rockford to cut down our Christmas tree), and fit in church, the 'Twas the Night Before Christmas ballet, and a family dinner on Sunday.

There are pictures (and I'll upload those later, when my computer isn't being hogged by my trying-to-acquire-a-small-business husband), but for now I want to say how lucky I felt, over and over, to be blessed with so much; to sit down to meals of such bounty, with family all around the table; to go running through the woods and along the lake early in the morning; to be out in a field full of pine trees on a sunny winter's day, watching my little girls smell the branches and march in their boots; to watch their faces when glittering snow fell onto the stage midway through the ballet, and again when Santa himself appeared in a sleigh; to settle into our house on Saturday night, a fire in the fireplace, our Christmas tree decorated, mugs of hot cocoa in hand, watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

I am feeling a bit frantic, lately, with a lot of lists lying around and un-wrapped presents and upcoming events. I am trying to figure out how to make this holiday season one of simple, intentional moments instead of a frenzy of "have-to-do's." And I think the secret is, as usual, in the small things, and in one big thing, too: watching the girls take it all in; watching them wonder at the magic of it all.