Fighting for the Christmas Spirit

Fighting for the Christmas Spirit

Last year, Christmas got the best of me and I vowed never to repeat that frazzled state of affairs. So, this year, I had a plan for managing the craziness and keeping true to the stillness and reflection that are suppose to characterize the advent season.

I began implementing the plan – Operation Christmas Spirit -- last January. By mid-November I already had a stack of Christmas presents wrapped, quite beautifully I thought.

For the first part of this month, I listened smugly to others complain about their endless lists of things to do while I went sledding with my kids and calmly decorated the house.

But last week, my Christmas Spirit plan began to fray. The first threads appeared while we were braiding, one-by-one, candy cane cookies that looked adorable on Food Network but tasted like toothpaste.

Christmas lights further undermined “Operation Christmas Spirit.” I untangled and eventually threw away an entire tub of half-working or completely dark lights. After hours of struggling with wires and bulbs, I wound the strands of working lights around some the garland on our porch, and then lined up the kids to watch me turn them on.

Instead of cheers I heard groans of disappointment. Only half the lights lit. I had knocked one of the more than 300 little buggers loose. Someday I want to meet the Chinese engineer who designed Christmas lights. Clearly, they are a big joke on Americans.

Christmas lights are like kryptonite for the Christmas spirit. So are things like:

· The Chipmunks Christmas CD played on a continuous loop.

· Children who “order” extravagant (expensive) gifts from Santa because they are free.

· Ads that count down the remaining shopping or shipping days beginning in September.

· And presents purchased in advance that can not be found in their clever hiding place.

Christmas, for women, is almost universally a challenging and stressful time. In addition to our normal duties we attempt to:

• Redecorate our homes.
• Buy (or make) presents for family, friends, neighbors, teachers, service providers, clients, co-workers and needy children.
• Send cards with adorable pictures to everyone we’ve ever met and want to remain in contact with.
• Fill our homes with fancy, home-baked sweets.

“Operation Christmas Spirit” has been a revealing effort. I’ve had to fight harder than I expected to maintain calm and good cheer. There are many forces working against it -- most of them our own making.

We’ve turned the simplicity of that first Christmas upside down and transformed the advent season into a series of tasks -- things to check off rather than experience.

In the final week before Christmas, my plan needs to be fortified. It’s time to scale back the Martha Stewart expectations and refocus on the humility and faith of the Holy Family -- the real source of Christmas spirit.

Have a beautiful and peaceful Christmas. May your Christmas lights burn bright.

Free Play: Batteries Not Necessary

My friend was attempting to wrestle her three young children out the door for swimming lessons. She held her toddler on one hip while trying, rather unsuccessfully, to direct her other kids into their coats.

I would have helped but I was corralling my own kids to our car for guitar lessons.

As we exchanged exasperated looks, I blurted out the one thought popped into my mind, “Our moms did not do this.”

Actually, they did few of the activities that are common place for today’s parents. No pre-school at age three, music lessons for infants or all-day kindergarten. No swimming lessons for diaper-wearing babies or Itty Bitty anything.

Instead I cruised around with neighborhood friends, immersed in a world of make-believe games like “house on bikes” where our block was our city, our bikes were our cars and each house was a different store or location.

When I was bored or unruly, my parents usually offered two choices. Go outside or get to work. Today, parents have an entirely different box of tools: Nickelodeon, Nintendo, Wii, Webkinz, structured activities like sports and lessons and super stores brimming with passive toys that come with pre-written scripts.

A report last year from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) takes a hard look at today’s child-rearing practices and concludes that unstructured playtime for American children is seriously suffering. A variety of causes are to blame -- changing family structures, passive toys, increasing pressure for kids to perform, and education policies that have led to less recess and phy ed in many schools.

Author Kenneth R. Ginsburg, MD, says free play is vital in developing strong parent-child bonds and well-adjusted children. It helps children develop socially, emotionally, physically and cognitively and teaches them how to manage stress, solve problems and get along with others.

And I thought we were just having fun.

Authors were careful to note that organized activities have many benefits, but said it’s unclear when a child (or mom, I might add) may be “overscheduled” to their detriment, leading to anxiety, depression and other things that have no place in childhood.

Personally, I wish organized sports didn’t start so young. I love athletics, but right now my kids are perfectly satisfied with a shovel and snow bank. I hate to give that up and our limited family time when they are so young.

But if we wait too long, our kids will be too far behind to play some sports. This is the “treadmill” that Ginsburg said parents struggle to step off.

“The downtime that allows parents and children some of the most productive time for interaction is at a premium when schedules become highly packed with adult-supervised or adult-driven activities,” Ginsburg cautions.

These highly packed schedules have another downside. It takes away some of the pleasures of parenting. Hussling kids to and fro, in and out of cars and car seats isn’t a fun way to spend time with your family.

Obviously, times have changed. Most parents are employed now, and children can’t safely roam about town like I did as a child. Still, there are plenty of steps we can take to provide balance and room for free play. Here are some ideas from the AAP:

• Play and family togetherness are tried, trusted, and traditional methods of promoting success and happiness in children. Ignore messages that suggest otherwise.
• Chose “true toys”, such as blocks and dolls, in which children use their imagination fully.
• Read to your children, even at young ages.
• Allow children to explore a variety of interests in a balanced way without feeling pressured to excel at all of them.
• Seek a balanced schedule based on each child’s unique needs, skills, and temperament.
• Choose child care and early education programs that offer more than “academic preparedness.”

The website www.playborhood.com offers a wide variety of insights on this subject. The material was worth considering prior to Christmas shopping for my kids. Pass by the “baby Einstein” videos and reach instead for books, blocks and other battery-free classics.

Now excuse me. I have some shovels and gloves to wrap for two little warriors who are plotting a snowball attack on bad guys across the street.

Thank You America

I attended my daughter’s kindergarten class recently and filled up with tears as the chorus of young voices boldly recited the Pledge of Allegiance, “And to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Liberty and justice for all. What awesome ideals.

I’ve been a unabashed patriot for a long time. I can’t sing any patriotic ballads without choking up. In high school, my basketball team blasted Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to be an American” as pre-game locker room pep music. This was 15 years before 9-11 made the song famous and popular.

So I’ve really struggled to accept news in recent years about Americans being “hated” by the world for being arrogant, greedy, spoiled and any number of offensive qualities. This theme is so prevalent in news I believe it has noticeably dampened the collective American spirit.

Recently, however, the flame of American pride that is smoldering in even the most diehard patriots has received a burst of needed oxygen from a most unlikely source: a Frenchman! That’s hard to imagine considering just three years ago all references to “French” were removed from the menu at our nation’s capital. But, it’s true, America has an expressive and eloquent admirer in the new French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

His recent historic speech to a joint session of Congress was a valuable reminder of what the United States represents to the rest of world.

“America did not teach men the idea of freedom; she taught them how to practice it,” he said. “And she fought for this freedom whenever she felt it to be threatened somewhere in the world. It was by watching America grow that men and women understood that freedom was possible.”

President Sarkozy reminded Americans how we saved France in World War I and II and how thousands of young American soldiers marched to their death on the beaches of France “not to defend their own freedom but the freedom of all others, not to defend their own families, their own homeland, but to defend humanity as a whole.”

He sited the Marshall Plan, the Cold War, and the Berlin Crisis as ways in which America, at countless key moments in history, has led the world in the fight for freedom.

“From the very beginning, the American dream meant proving to all mankind that freedom, justice, human rights and democracy were no utopia but were rather the most realistic policy there is and the most likely to improve the fate of each and every person.

“America did not tell the millions of men and women who came from every country in the world and who—with their hands, their intelligence and their heart -- built the greatest nation in the world: ‘Come, and everything will be given to you.’ She said: ‘Come, and the only limits to what you'll be able to achieve will be your own courage and your own talent.’ America embodies this extraordinary ability to grant each and every person a second chance,” Sarkozy declared.

I’ve been struck of late by a realization that virtually all the blessings for which I am most grateful, save God himself, are made possible by the freedom I enjoy as an American. Without this, my family and I could not live, work or worship where we chose. Our economic stability would be threatened. Our access to health care choices jeopardized, even our decision to freely bear children could be taken from us.

So, while I’m humbled by countless blessings this Thanksgiving, I am most grateful for the gift of America.

Timeless Wisdom from Mr. Rogers

More often than I care to admit, Sunday mornings find me fuming in our car, steaming mad at my family. In the process of getting ready for church, I usually blow my gasket at least once at an uncooperative child (or husband). We squeal down the street to worship, five minutes later than we should be leaving with very unholy thoughts about each other on our minds.

Scenes like this gave birth to the phrase, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Perhaps it’s the way my daughter can emulate with perfect pitch my most unpleasant voice as she scolds her brothers for this or that minor infraction. Or maybe it’s the fact that my five year old stood at the door last week putting on his coat and declared with utter frustration, “This d#%* zipper.”

Fred Rogers said it best, “We speak with more than our mouths. We listen with more than our ears.”

Parenting probably offers the most brutal lessons in this truism, but Mr. Roger’s wisdom applies to everyone, in all settings -- the cheerful waiter serving coffee, the brusque doctor making rounds, the friendly teenager teaching little kids to skate.

Even perfect strangers on the street can communicate without talking, like the woman I see running around my neighborhood every morning. Some days I pass her as a fellow jogger. Most often, regrettably, I watch her through the windows of my car.

She’s notable for several reasons. She’s incredibly consistent. She’s very fit -- thin and muscular. And, she’s probably pushing 70 years old.

She passed one day when I was talking to a friend. “That woman makes me feel guilty,” my friend confessed. I’ve felt the same way a time or two when I’ve glimpsed her gliding by as I peered over the rim of my grande brew with extra cream.

But generally, her affect on me has been positive. The only word we’ve ever exchanged is “hello” and yet I’ve caught myself thinking about this dedicated jogger when I’m trying to justify going back to sleep instead of exercising.

I’m sure she has no idea the example she is setting for people she has never met just by getting up every morning to jog. I don’t even know her name, yet she has prompted me out of bed at dawn to workout.

Everyday, our actions send powerful messages to people around us. They describe our values and priorities, what we believe and cherish. I scan my current “to-do” list.

Hang Christmas lights. Pay bills. Respond to email. Fix drawers. Write news release.

My actions are talking and some important people in my life are listening closely with their eyes. What are they hearing?

I ponder the list. The things I hold most dear are poorly represented, yet it’s my list. I wrote it. What’s missing? What should be first? What can come off?

I add a few new things to the top, scratch off the tasks that can wait, and end with some final thoughts: Get up earlier for church. Quit saying “d#%*.”

60 Minutes of Solitude

This fall, I did something I will remember all winter. Two of my kids were playing with friends and my youngest child had fallen asleep in the car on our after school dash. The weather was beautiful, so I left him sleeping in the car with the windows down and perched myself nearby on our porch with my laptop.

I was ready to use these unexpected free moments for productive purposes. But after about 10 minutes, I was so relaxed and drowsy I could hardly stay awake. “Maybe I’ll just rest for a minute,” I thought. Then I leaned over, curled up and fell asleep in the sun.

As I laid there soaking in what could have been the last warm rays of the season, I remember thinking I had never been so perfectly comfortable. The sky was royal blue and cloudless. The neighborhood was quiet. A soft breeze was just enough to keep the sun from becoming hot.

I’ve always thought if I could be any animal, I’d be an eagle. Perhaps I’ve overlooked the benefits of life as a cat.

Sadly, this was an indulgent act for me, as it would be for most American adults. Yet I am so glad I allowed myself to enjoy it. I can’t recall anything about the computer work I neglected in exchange for that catnap. But I vividly remember the peace, solitude and warmth of those 60 quiet minutes in the sun.

I felt a bit like Frederick the field mouse from the children’s book. His family works day and night to gather corn and nuts and straw for the winter. But not Frederick. He stares into the pretty meadow.

“Why don’t you work Frederick,” his family says reproachfully.

“I do work,” he insists, and then relates how he’s soaking in sun rays for cold dark winter days, gathering colors from the meadow because winter is gray, and gathering words to share on long winter days when all of them have run out of things to say.

When the snow begins to fall, the field mice are content at first. They have plenty of food to eat and stories to share. But as winter drags on, their supplies dwindle. They become cold and quiet. Then they remember Frederick.

“What about your supplies Frederick?” they ask. Frederick, true to his promise, is eager to share his plentiful stores. He tells them to shut their eyes and relates in vivid detail the feeling of the warm sun and the look of the colorful meadow. His words and poetry carry them through the remaining hard days of winter.

We ought to take a cue from Frederick. Work is important, of course. But rather than always running busily through our days, rushing through work and errands and home life, we ought to allow ourselves to pause and appreciate the gifts of the present more often. To enjoy the smell or feel of the air, the beauty of a pink striped sunrise, the taste of our food or maybe the feeling of our child’s cheek or spouse’s hand.

I asked my kids last night to tell me something fun that happened to them that day. My three-year-old thought about this for a few seconds. As his dark brown eyes looked at me intently I wondered if he would just copy the response of one of his older siblings.

But his eyes twinkled when he settled on his decision. “Eating TWO pieces of candy,” he declared, the smile on his face clearly reflecting his delight with this simple, fun memory.

I hope you pause today and everyday to feel the sun on your face, to savor some candy or to recognize whatever simple gifts comes your way.

Promises, Promises

Two weeks from now, we will have a new president, I hope. That’s assuming the election is actually decided by the voters not the courts. Please let that be the case.

As much as I’ve enjoyed this 12-month Olympic Games of politics, I’m ready for it to be over. I am weary of the process. The pundits are annoying. The campaign “surrogates” are predictable and offer no interesting insights. And the stunts, pandering and platitudes are so transparent sometimes all a person can do is laugh.

In an earnest website video, McCain promises to “rebuild our savings and make our investments grow again.” A cornerstone of his plan is allowing homeowners the chance to trade in “burdensome” mortgages for “manageable” ones.

While he’s at it, he may as well just erase those darned mortgages altogether. Not only are they burdensome, they are irritating. And I could buy a lot more fun stuff if it weren’t for that tiresome house payment every, single, month.

McCain also promises to create a National Commission on Workplace Flexibility and Choice. Their purpose isn’t entirely clear, but I believe they will explore ways to ensure that not only are we free to choose where we work, but when, how much and what we will be paid. I’ll be giving myself a huge raise if McCain wins.

Because he’s behind in the polls, McCain’s floating a real game changer -- a “Jeans Day, Every Day,” mandate. But don’t go stocking up on Levi’s yet. The Workplace Flexibility Commission won’t convene until the Straight Talk Express concludes a nationwide schedule of Volunteerism Summits. McCain wants to complete the “Thousand Points of Light” by Christmas.

As for Obama, it’s not surprising he’s ahead in the polls. When elected president, he will end discrimination and poverty, eliminate high school drop outs and ensure that all students receive a quality education.

And that’s just the first 100 days.

After that, he promises a living wage for all working families, mandatory retirement accounts for everyone and a week’s worth of paid sick leave in every job -- guaranteed. I heard he might even eliminate sickness altogether.

Have no fear all you business people who are worried about these requirements. You can always take up farming. When Obama is president his website said he will make farming both stable and predictable. The head of his new Climate Control Commission will be Mother Nature. Brilliant!

Obama has a lot of goodies in store for parents too. His “Zero to Five” plan calls for universal pre-school beginning at age zero. Read my lips, “NO MORE PARENTING!” Cool -- because the thing about parenting is, it’s such a big responsibility, and so much work.

My favorite Obama promise is “pain-free deliveries.” Where was he the last eight years when I was having babies?

Obama’s speech writers have already begun working on his inaugural address. It will be a moving speech, flawlessly delivered, echoing the words of beloved past American leaders with a modern twist.

“Ask not what you can do for your country,” our new president will say. “Ask what your country can do for you.”

Saving the Best for Last

Every once in a while, for no apparent reason, a chance of a lifetime falls in your lap. Mine came last week, packaged in a mysterious email from a Washington contact that contained a phone number and two words, “Call me.”

This triggered a chain of events that landed my daughter’s first grade class at the foot of the First Lady’s plane “Bright Star” to welcome her to North Dakota. And later that day, found me sharing “Cloud Nine” with a few others, all of us visiting with the First Lady over an intimate dinner at the University of Mary.

First, the airport. When organizers were looking for kids to meet the plane, I did what most mothers would do. I offered my child’s class.

One student excitedly told his mom about their pending field trip. “Mom, we’re going to meet the president’s wife tomorrow,” he said after school. “The president of what, Connor?” she replied. “The president of the UNITED STATES mom!” he said indignantly. Like, duh? Who else?

When these first graders arrived at the airport, they exploded out of their transport vans -- this despite the fact that most of them hardly knew of the First Lady and certainly didn’t realize what a cool plane she would have.

With the BHS band filling the air, these pint-sized patriots dressed head to toe in red, white, and blue marched toward the plane. They held a banner, “Welcome to North Dakota. Your 50^th State.” And my favorite part, “The Best for Last.”

The band played, “This is My Country” while the kids stood on the tarmac eagerly waving their flags and the impressive “blue top” plane taxied toward them. Many of the mom’s watching welled up with tears.

As the First Lady walked down those famous steps, I remembered what these innocent little kids were chanting minutes before. “Wel-come to A-mer-i-ca! Wel-come to A-mer-i-ca!”

I might be a little biased, but with the music, the kids, the sun radiating off the golden autumn fields and a cloudless blue sky enveloping us above, the sign seemed right on. “The Best for Last.” This is America.

Now, to the dinner. I don’t know what the credentials were for this event, but of this I’m sure. I did not have them. However, I wasn’t about to let the staffer who called to invite me in on that little secret. “North Dakota nice,” is one thing. That would be North Dakota stupid.

First Lady Bush looks exactly as she appears on television except for two things. Her stature is smaller, and her presence is larger. This is a strong woman who has seen and experienced a lot. She knows what she can do, what she wants to do, and she enjoys doing it.

My husband and others have asked, “What is she like?” The best way to describe her is with her familiar title. She is a teacher – the consummate teacher. Bright, inquisitive, kind, knowledgeable, friendly, relaxed, commanding.

What I really liked about Laura Bush was how unaffected she appears to be by the challenging and charmed life she has had as First Lady. She has no airs about her.

When she entered the room, she immediately set about trying to make us comfortable. She seemed genuinely interested in learning about North Dakota and North Dakota people. When I introduced myself, she was able to connect my name with the background I had supplied to her office. Cool! I want to do that when I grow up.

Mrs. Bush relayed how touched she was when women at the Sims Church broke out in a round of “God Bless America.” She also delighted in the after dinner performance of, “Come Home to North Dakota,” by Medora’s Job Christensen and Jan Gilbertson of Bismarck.

I loved how she talked about the White House like it is ours, not hers. She shared some fun stories about Theodore Roosevelt’s days there. And when Gov. Hoeven confessed to exploring the White House one night when he and Mikey were guests, Mrs. Bush chuckled and said in her distinctive Texas tone, “Of course – you might not get another chance.”

The role of First Lady doesn’t come with a job description, but Laura Bush has filled the position gracefully and effectively from the very beginning. We haven’t been subject to her wrangling over offices or roles or hairstyles for that matter.

For eight years, she has persistently promoted her passions – reading, education, history, art – and she has left her stamp on every state in the nation.

Thank you, Mrs. Bush, for making North Dakota your last, best stop.