Here’s a random picture dump since Easter. The bright yellow daffs have come and gone. Then the flowering cherry tree popped and petered out. Then the multi-colored tulips erupted, only to begin their fade into eleven months of obscurity. But I just started planting the new garden because it’s that time of year again, and because hope springs eternal. It’s the circle of life, and it moves us all, right?
The ladies are all out of town at An’s bridal shower today, and Andrew is off to his bachelor party. I kept Samuel and Levi myself last night, and we all went out to breakfast together after last night’s wonderful pizza-movie night.
I got to see “A Great Awakening” two weeks ago, Sight & Sound’s second major film. It’s the story of Benjamin Franklin’s interaction with George Whitefield two centuries ago. I spotted Andrew twice and Sonya three times along the way. Living in the same house with two movie stars is dreadful, but the film is well worth seeing. 🙂 You know for sure that most of the people in the production are local when everybody sits there to watch the credits.
Speaking of Sight & Sound, I got to see Joshua this past Thursday. That production is also worth seeing. The walls of Jericho came down, and Christ was lifted up. Several lines and moments got me right in the feels. Afterward, we got another back-stage tour, and we got to see some new areas this time. It’s like a small city back there.
Last but not least, Enya’s “Fallen Embers” is routinely said to be one of her fans’ most underrated pieces. I think the fans may be right. Happy weekend.
French is my second language, and I find it much easier to read and speak than to hear. That’s because all the silent letters make any words spoken quickly hard to discern if it’s not your native tongue. There are too many options to sort through quickly in your mind.
When I was in Paris several years ago, it was much easier to read signs and menus, and even order food and taxi cabs, than to comprehend what people were saying in the Métro. (It really is true, though, that French people appreciate when Americans try to speak the language. They just smile politely when you butcher it.)
The other challenge « en français » is that the plethora of short vowels and nasal sounds makes the language hard to sing. As my lyric-soprano wife likes to say, “There’s just no way to make ‘/ɛ̃/’ sound pretty.” Ditto, /ɑ̃/, /ɔ̃/, and /œ̃/. (If you don’t know the international phonetic alphabet, just blow your nose to imitate a duck, and you’ll approximate those sounds.)
The saving grace in French music—particularly classical songs and opera—is that short vowels can be lengthened, emphasized, and given specific rhythmic weight to fit the musical phrasing. Additionally, for two back-to-back nasal sounds, the first syllable can be lengthened, and the second can stay short, as in the famous Christmas carol:
“Il Est Né Le Divin Enfant” (“He Is Born, the Divine Child”)
The ending syllable in “divin” normally would be short and nasal, but that would give you three duck quacks in a row (i.e., “in,” “en,” and “fant”). Therefore, French music allows the singer to pronounce the word “divin” as “diveen” to minimize the quacking.
Merci beaucoup.
All that said, I was captivated by the beauty and passion of “Maison” (“Home”) as sung by “Lucie,” a 15-year-old year old French singer who gained popularity for her performances on The Voice Kids France. It was written and composed by the aptly named Emilio Piano, whose score is exquisite. Below is the approximate English translation, though I may have missed an idiom or two. C’est la vie.
Enjoy!
Home
Where do we go? When we no longer have a home? Flowers grow from under the concrete Mom, tell me Where do we go?
Will we really know one day? Or are we just faking it, all the time? Where does our heart go when it gets lost? In its doubts and winters? Why is every day the same? Will we end up seeing what we have put together? Mom, tell me
Over yonder From the storm, there is Love, love, love When heaven opens up Everything becomes calm again And all is well
Where does it go? Happiness, that fragile thread, When it wobbles and breaks? Mom, tell me Where does it go?
Why does the world seem so big, When we become just a bit bigger than before? What happens to dreams that are lost? And memories that we forget? Will I always have questions? Maybe I’ll make them into songs. Mom, tell me
Over yonder From the storm, there is Love, love, love When heaven opens up Everything becomes calm again And all is well
My apologies for such a long hiatus. Life has been full and meaningful since posting three weeks ago. I just needed that “long winter’s nap” to recover from everything. 🙂 But I’ve missed you! Anyway, our Christmas Eve candlelight service was rich and wonderful, not to mention well attended. Samuel and Levi practiced their parts (singing “Silent Night” and “Joy to the World” while standing next to me with lit candles), and they nailed it.
After worship, we watched—at Drew’s request—the first part of Jesus of Nazareth, focusing on the Gospel Infancy Narratives. Peter Ustinov hits it out of the park as Herod the Great. Olivia Hussey (what a name for someone playing the blessed virgin Mary!) is likewise stellar in her role as the mother of Christ. In fact, except for a few duds along the way, this epic film from the mid-80s is very well cast and perfectly set. I have the script almost memorized.
Our Christmas Day celebration was magical, too, especially with the boys growing in their awareness of what the fuss is really all about. After verifying that Jesus was in the manger, and singing “Happy Birthday” to him, we read together from Matthew 2 and then opened our gifts. Christmas dinner followed, and then the kids were off to their next stop.
The next day we traveled to Delaware and spent half a week with Sonya’s siblings and their families. The food and desserts we enjoyed were amazing, but my stomach (thankfully) can’t hold what it used to, and it (unthankfully) lets me know that in various ways! It’s great to be down 65 lbs., but I’d still like to go 15 more. That might require getting back in the pool. We’ll see.
On Sunday, January 4, we hosted an Epiphany party at our house for neighbors, friends, and church members. That, too, was well attended, and it was fun to connect with all who came. I get a little sad when all the festivities are over, but there’s much to look forward to in the coming year. Leading the list is Andrew’s wedding in May. In addition to planning on all the arrangements, he and An are looking for a house close to where they work.
Right now, Sight & Sound is in their “changeover” period, which means long and strange hours as they get ready for their new show (Joshua). It’s a massive effort to coordinate all aspects of a major theater production. The new cast rehearses during the day, which pushes the tech team to have to work second- and third-shift hours. But I’m already getting hints that it’s going to be amazing.
Additionally, their film, A Great Awakening, is set to release in theaters on Easter weekend. Andrew has a small role in it, and Sonya is an extra—a townsperson attending Whitefield’s revival service. With multiple takes for that scene, she says she got saved seven times during the filming. 🙂
Yesterday we celebrated Micah’sbirthday here at our house, complete with a big dinner from Tosco’s. His boys love him to pieces, as do we. He’s such a good husband and father, and he just got elected (unanimously) to be a deacon at his church. He’s also a big cheese where he works, and they love the value he brings to the practice.
My own research and writing efforts have included a massive study on the Trinity, along with my doctoral dissertation on the torn veil in the temple. Both are going well, albeit slower than I would like. The outside teaching and speaking calendar is also coming into view, and it looks like the year ahead will be full and inspirational. I suppose my main prayer request would be for good health, energy, and focus to accomplish it all. There’s a lot of noise in the world right now, and it’s all too easy to be sucked into the vortex of its never-ending brokenness.
Until the warm weather returns, I’ll be inside the house building forts with Samuel and Levi. They recently discovered the magic of creating their little man caves, and I’m here for it.
Be well.
‘Smores are yummy. And messy.Less on the face means more in the belly!My helpers to clear the snow.I wonder where Andrew gets his silliness from.Every year Micah defiles our Nativity scene. This year it was a Crystal Cave sign.Something for everyone.By the chimney with care.Ready to feast.The stuff we shouldn’t eat.Getting ready for the kids to stop by on Christmas morning.The ceramic tree and the gumdrop tree.Lyrics we were singing to my mom when she went to be with Jesus.Two of my gifts opening a gift.An elf from the North Pole.Microphones for the boys.Inside the latest fort.It’s more like a Bedouin tent.More ‘smores.Happy birthday, Micah!
Speaking of mid-80s, here’s a schmaltzy one from that period. Anyway, it’s nice to be back.
It was a sad weekend in our neck of the woods. First, we got news that one of our parishioners, who was recently diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia, will need a second (and more aggressive) round of chemotherapy to reach remission before her care team will do any bone marrow treatments. We feel horrible on her behalf, but we are not without hope.
Second, a parishioner from a previous church had her ashes spread on Saturday. Her husband and sons are in deep grief for this wife and mother who died all too young. “For dust you are, and to dust you will return” (Genesis 3:19). She knew Christ as her Lord and Savior, so here again, we are not without hope.
Finally, we got news yesterday that my sister-in-law had to put her dog Buddy down. We would dog sit him whenever she and her husband went on vacation. Rescued out of a horrible situation nine years ago, Buddy was the kindest, most chill creature we’ve ever known. Yet even here we are not without hope. Apparently, all dogs go to heaven. (Except for Puffy, the demon-possessed Pomeranian.)
All this came on the heels of a hellish news week, one featuring terrorism and death around the world and here at home. Again. (And some of it was done in the name of the twisting of one of the world’s major religions.) Who cannot sympathize with the ancient lament, “How long, O Lord?”
But through all the hard times of life, God cares for his people. That’s why he came to us on that first Christmas. God in Christ didn’t avoid the miseries of this world. Rather, he entered into those miseries, experienced them firsthand, and then swallowed them up. He’s coming again someday to make all things new. In the meantime, we can count on his lavishing love to carry us through the hard times.
Bethany told me a while back that she won’t be able to attend a Christmas Eve service when I’m gone. I said to my precious little girl, “You need to be brave and go light those candles like you always do. The light they hold represents all that gives us hope beyond the grave.”
Mild he lays his glory by, Born that man no more may die, Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth.
Christmas Eve—and all that it represents—is everything. Everything.
Have a good cry if you need to when life is hard. “Blessed are those who mourn,” said Jesus. He should know. Christ had tears streaming down his own cheeks on more than one occasion, too. He was “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” So you’re in good company if you “lose it” once in a while. It’s o.k. to not be o.k. for a season. After all, it’s only a season. “Joy comes in the morning.”
So, dare to cling to hope. And let Hope himself cling to you. The Christmas manger leads to an empty tomb. It’s still a Christ-kissed earth that we live on, so we are never without hope.
I love it when Halloween falls on Pizza-Movie night. On the other hand, I did get arrested earlier for robbing a bank and making off with the loot. Samuel was a police officer this year, and I was a bad guy. I was actually dressed as a Philadelphia Phillie when he arrived, but he insisted I dress like a criminal. I think he enjoyed cuffing me a little too much.
Levi was a John Deere tractor this time around. He picked up farmer girl Sonya and gave her a ride around the neighborhood, where we collected lots of fun-size candy bars and other treats. The folks on our block were all charmed. We’re waiting now for the inevitable sugar crash, followed by lots of snuggling. What a blast we’re having already this weekend.
I have the right to remain silent.I get to make one phone call.Levi and his tractor. And his Gaga.The boys enjoying their haul.Every child does this with Bugle snacks.Our little kitchen ninjas.Backyard ‘smores with Samuel.
We are thrilled to announce that our son Andrew is engaged to be married! At around 5:00 p.m. on Monday, October 27, he asked the love of his life, An Le, to be his wife. He proposed to her at Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, using his grandmother’s wedding ring, which is loaded with meaning and sentimentality.
Drew actually designed and commissioned a uniquely tailored ring with An’s favorite gemstones in it, along with an interlocking configuration of A’s from their first names. Alas, that ring won’t be ready for another few days. While the delay was initially disappointing, the heirloomring brought a sense of family history into this precious moment.
Drew’s Grandpa Keith worked for an entire summer painting army barracks at Fort Hood, Texas, so he could buy that diamond for his fiancé, the one who would eventually become my mother-in-law. Without him and Grandma Lorena, Sonya would not be here, and neither would Andrew. He was their first grandchild, and the newest joy of their lives—a thrill I understand a whole lot better these days. On bended knee in a beautiful garden, he brought his grandparents’ love and legacy into a sacred event the happy couple will never forget.
An wearing Grandma Lorena’s wedding ring.
More important than any ring, however, is the one wearing it. An is a lovely Christian woman with a deep personal faith and commitment to Jesus. She is gracious, kind, warm, and engaging. She’s also an exceptional piano player, and we love to hear her “go to town” on the ivories. She is able, even from memory, to play classical music as well as hymns and worship songs. She has a captivating smile, and she adores children, including Samuel and Levi, which means she has good taste. (And also because she’s crazy about Andrew!) We love her to pieces!
Drew and An met at Sight & Sound Theatre, near Lancaster, where they both work. Their encounter was made possible when Drew decided to leave the photojournalism business several years ago and reboot his life. It was an act of faith and courage on his part, and I’m exceedingly proud of him for taking such a bold step. The station where he worked would not give him Sunday mornings off to attend church, and they constantly asked him to signal-boost—not just report—events that were contrary to his Christian faith. Not only that, he had seen enough violence, crime, and human devastation covering the news to last a lifetime.
So, providentially, he made his way to Sight & Sound, where he could put his Film & Media Arts degree from Temple University to good use for the kingdom of Christ. Little did we realize at the time that God had a divine encounter awaiting him in the person of An (pronounced “Ahn”) Le (pronounced “Lay”), who works in the theatre’s Hospitality Department.
An and Andrew on a recent date.
Her father Phil is a medical doctor who, at the age of 11, was rushed onto a plane during the fall of Saigon, Vietnam. The Communists were rounding up and killing Christians, and Phil’s neighborhood was scheduled for execution the next day. Blessedly, that emergency flight out of the country saved his life. More divine providence.
Knowing the proposal would be made Monday—and anticipating An’s joyful acceptance of it—Andrew, Sonya, and I gathered Sunday night for a time of prayer to thank God for his goodness to us. There were, of course, tears of delight as we remembered praying—even while standing by Drew’s crib when that first contraction hit and we knew it was time to go to the hospital—for our firstborn’s future spouse.
An, you are an answer to many prayers that go way back in time. Welcome to the family, dear one. We love you, and we pledge to pray for you into the future as well.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Engagement pictures (and snaps of the custom ring) forthcoming.
Bethany and the boys traveled to North Carolina this week along with Sonya to visit Sonya’s brother, so I’m missing Samuel and Levi right now. I’m grateful for the Face Times we’ve had, but I’d rather play with them in person and give them belly zerbits. It sounds like they miss me almost as much as I miss them, but they’re having a blast.
Uncle Joel works at (and lives right next to) a golf resort, so he took the boys on a ride in his golf cart. I think they’re hooked. Aunt Donna had a massive spread of Thomas the Tank Engine trains for them to play with. So, they’re feeling all the love. In the meantime, I’m just getting caught up on some projects that have piled up during my recent speaking gigs. So is Micah. We pledged not to bother each other this week. We’re just two introverts meeting together in separate places. 😊
Yes, I’m still on the planet. We just got consumed with VBS, several day trips with the boys, a few church facility improvement projects, and now a long-planned vacation to the beach. We leave right after the worship service tomorrow, and we’ll be meeting up with my brothers- and sisters-in-law for a no-rush, no-agenda getaway. My goal is to read and relax a whole lot…while talking to as few people as possible. 😊 Below are a few random shots of recent shenanigans.
Samuel and Levi enjoyed touring the local airport.Thomas the Tank Engine was waiting for us in Strasburg.Samuel loves choo-choo trains.Levi loves my sneakers.Our vegetable garden has started to erupt.After least year’s weed infestation, I thought I would try a new approach.Radishes, (late) onions, carrots, two kinds of green beans, two kinds of peppers, and four kinds of tomatoes.On the tire swing at the Pretzel Hut.
I was attacked by two bubble monsters on my own patio.
Where the river foams and surges to the sea, Silver figures rise to find me, Wise and as daring, Following the heart’s cry.
I am that deep pool, I am that dark spring, Warm with a mystery, I may reveal to you,
In Time, (Time holds the heart’s key) Key to everything is Love, (Love makes the heart flower) Flowers into a deep desire, (Passion in the heart’s fire) Passion and desire.
What started as a 7-minute intermission during the “Eurovision Song Contest 1994” in Dublin, Ireland, grew to become a theatrical phenomenon that today, 30 years later, still captivates and exhilarates audiences around the world with its unique blend of magical music and Celtic choreography.
The show consisted largely of traditional Irish music and dance, but it contained key innovations (some controversial) that brought the art form into the modern era. With a score composed by Bill Whelan, it featured Irish dancing standouts Michael Flatley and Jean Butler, along with the vocal ensemble Anúna.
I saw Riverdance shortly after it came out in 1995 on a VHS tape made for me by my mom. She thought I would enjoy it, and she was more than right. I was enraptured by the production’s confluence of beauty, musicality, joy, and athleticism—so much so that I got choked up several times along the way. I stood in awe at the sheer talent projected on the screen, and the inspiring impact it had on my soul. Good art can do that.
Last night Sonya gave me an early birthday present. (My actual birthday is March 31.) We got to see the opening night production of Riverdance 30 at the American Music Theater in Lancaster. Needless to say, I got choked up again. It was no less amazing than the original, except that it was mostly unoriginal. No one, however, was bothered by that. We wanted to see what a new generation could do with the incomparable classic.
Most of these dancers and musicians had not been born yet when Riverdance debuted, but they rose to the challenge last night with energy, grace, enthusiasm, and flair. They honored the original cast and production with not only a fine recapitulation of the masterpiece, but also with video clips of the 1995 show in the background during the finale. They also honored the audience with an unforgettable performance that brought back some powerful memories.
And that’s what has me feeling a bit wistful today. Flatley and Butler famously parted ways about a year later over creative differences, artistic control, perceived slights, and a public war of words. That seems to happen a lot in show business, and it’s always sad when it does. Flatley’s next project, Lord of the Dance, was darker, creepier, and somewhat narcissistic. The magic was gone, at least for me. Butler continued performing in new iterations of Riverdance, and the public seemed to be more sympathetic to her side of the rift.
I have no ability or desire to arbitrate the matter. I just know that I’ll never not appreciate the original performance. And I do hope the two leads who “riveted me at the river” 30 years ago can someday mend fences. That would be an even greater magic.
Time holds the heart’s key Key to everything is Love Love makes the heart flower
The past month has been a flurry of hospitality at our house, so I haven’t had a lot of time to write blog posts. From the various Christmas parties and out-of-town guests we’ve hosted, to last week’s church Epiphany party at our place, I’m now ready for that long winter’s nap. Before collapsing, I thought I would share some random photos from the last several weeks. As always, the highlight was standing at the front of the church with the whole crew at the end of the Christmas Eve service, holding candles during “Silent Night,” “King of Kings,” and “Joy to the World.” Samuel took his role very seriously, holding his (battery-operated) candle high for Jesus. Alas, we don’t have a picture of that precious moment. Otherwise, Enjoy!
The Christmas table is set.The renovated kitchen made serving a breeze.Our guests seemed to like the beverage center, complete with the tea collection.By tradition, the boys “camp out” in their living room on Christmas Eve.Levi, our little star.Joyful Samuel getting ready for bed in his new PJs.Uncle Joel playing baseball with the boys in our backyard.Now batting, little Levi.Samuel had to show off his tree fort that Papa made him.Over Christmas, “Buddy” is the name of a dog, not an elf. Boom whackers were a hit for the cousins.Most of the new toys were a hit.Grown-ups playing Mexican Train, always a blast.Bundled up blessings.
We took the boys to Cabella’s to see the animal displays.Samuel and Papa on the footbridge.Little boys love their marbles.Cousins came and went……and posed for the annual picture when they were here.Feasting is fun. And messy.We got the boys a snow rocket, which they love (with or without snow).
When Sonya and I were doing our undergraduate work at West Virginia University, we had the privilege of writing a few songs with Jon Swerens, my college roommate from Ohio. He was a wonderful keyboardist, and he had a Yamaha DX7 synthesizer with a multi-track recorder on it. That device enabled him to orchestrate our songs right there in the dorm.
During the Advent season of our junior year, the three of us were thinking deeply about the mystery of the Incarnation. I was a relatively new believer at the time, but I was eager to study, learn, and “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (2 Peter 3:18). Others who were in the faith before I was, including Jon, taught me a lot about Christian orthodoxy and orthopraxy. Those days in the dorm with Jon were magical, and I was blessed to serve as the best man in his wedding after graduation.
In November-December of our junior year, we wound up writing a Christmas song titled, “Fully Human, Fully God.” It was our best attempt to express all that we understood to be true of the enfleshment of God in Christ in Bethlehem two millennia ago. We tried to make the song as majestic as we could, pushing it to crescendo like most other power ballads of the day, something fit for a king. Something fit for the King.
The lyrics were thick, and the instrumentation was heavy. The message was lofty, and Sonya did it justice with her operatic pipes. Sandi Patty couldn’t have done it better. In the end, it wasn’t a great piece, but we thought it was a respectable effort for a couple of novice songwriters. We gave it B/B+.
The project wore us out. All that study. All that theology. All that writing and re-writing. All that struggle to capture the mystery and majesty of God becoming one of us in the person of Christ. We were physically and emotionally drained—right at the time we were supposed to be gearing up for finals.
One night as we were reflecting on the project, we quickly agreed that we had missed something. We were all a bit unsatisfied with what we had produced, and yet it was hard to put our finger on exactly why. At one point I said something along the lines of: “You know, for all that complex theology and soaring orchestration, we dare not ever miss the simplicity of Christmas—and the humble, childlike response we’re supposed to have to it.”
As it turns out, that was the missing piece. Jon quietly processed our postmortem, stilled himself before the Lord over the next few days, and then started writing again. After sharing with me his nascent thoughts and simple melody, I suggested a few lines and rhymes, along with a title for the new composition. We called it, “Nativity.”
Musically, Jon nailed it. It was so simple. So gentle. So light. So peaceful. Neither the instrumentation nor the theology was heavy or profound, but as Oswald Chambers once said, “Beware of posing as a profound person—God became a baby.” Quite significantly, we were much more satisfied with this second attempt. The first song touched our minds, but the second one touched our hearts.
I wish I still had the original soundtrack, but the recording is lost to history. I can reproduce the basic melody and chord structure on a keyboard, but Jon’s expert orchestration is gone, except in our memories. Consequently, I’ll just share the lyrics below. They came to mind last week while I was playing with Samuel and Levi.
Those beautiful boys make my heart overflow with love and gratitude on a regular basis—not unlike what happens to me when I ponder the Incarnation each December. They remind me of the childlike response we’re supposed to have to “Emmanual,” God with us—even after we’ve long since grown up.
Nativity
Let me be your angel singing loud and clear “Jesus Christ is born” Let me be your shepherd leaving flocks behind Just to see the Lord I owned an inn before I shrugged and closed the door Help me leave the world behind Let me worship you
Let me be your star burning bright and far For all to see Let me be your swaddling clothes Warm your heart in me O let me be that night When all was calm and bright Let me be your manger, Lord Come and rest in me
It’s been far too long since I’ve posted pictures of our munchkins, but these little guys continue to be a source of great joy and delight in my life. I’m beyond blessed to be able to watch them on Wednesdays and Friday nights (i.e., the pizza and sleepover night). A few shots below show their love of tractors and trains. You can also see their Trunk-or-Treat costumes—a firefighter and a Dalmatian, with Mom and Dad serving as the firetruck. Super adorable! My own “trunk” this year conveyed yet another post-season collapse by the Phillies. Only one word came to mind for the sign. 😊
Andrew and Sonya both received parts in Sight & Sound’s second film, A Great Awakening. (Their first film, I Heard the Bells, was a bigger success in the theaters than anticipated.) Drew will play the part of William Pierce, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States. He was also a military officer during the Revolutionary War and member of the Continental Congress. It will be a non-speaking role but one with considerable action. Sonya will be one of the colonial townsfolk, an ensemble that will also have a musical number.
Now in production, A Great Awakening tells the true story of an unlikely friendship resulting in one of the most defining yet untold moments of American history. Known as our spiritual founding father, George Whitefield ignited a different kind of revolution, one now known as “The Great Awakening.” More to come, so stay tuned.
Unrelatedly, thanks to those who inquired about, and prayed for, our family members down south in the wake of Hurricane Helene. All are present and accounted for. Several are still without power and cell service, but they’re all safe. May God comfort those who have suffered great loss.
We returned Sunday night from our trip to Hickory, North Carolina, where we conducted funeral services for my mother-in-law, Lorena Moore. It was good to re-connect with family, even on such a sad occasion. She is the second of 14 siblings to pass away, and most of her brothers and sisters came to bid her farewell. The outpouring of love and gratitude was both healing and refreshing. Here is a copy of the funeral bulletin:
Speaking of funerals, today is the tenth anniversary of the death of Dr. David A. Dorsey, my Old Testament professor who I adored. I may post later today the eulogy I gave at his funeral. I miss him a great deal, as do the rest of us on the seminary faculty. He had a high view of God, a high view of Scripture, and a high view of others, even while he himself was the humblest (and smartest) person I had ever met.
Christmas was a real joy, despite the death in our family. We kept our plans in place, and the immediate family gathered at our house for several days to celebrate. The kids, of course, were adorable. They were a bit overwhelmed at times by the sixteen people and two dogs who assembled under our roof. It’s a fairly large place, but when you have two 2-year-olds, one 1-year-old, and a 5-month-old in the midst of all that activity, you get a meltdown once in a while. That said, they were all fantastic and got along beautifully.
We were heavy on the gifts for our kids and their kids this year, but Sonya and I went light on each other. We decided that our newly renovated kitchen—which was completed two weeks ago—was sufficient. One of these days I may get motivated and post a few pictures of it. We’re thrilled with the results. Next up is converting the “Granny Flat” (as we called it) to a master bedroom. We’re not in a hurry, though. We need to grieve and discern what’s next in our lives before moving any walls or reconfiguring things. A few life changes are coming, and those changes could affect what we do with the space.
My sister-in-law got me the complete set of Harry Potter DVDs for Christmas, which totally took me by surprise. I had watched them online years ago just to see what all the fuss was about, but that was during a time when I was burning the candle at both ends, and I kept falling asleep. It will be good to fill in the gaps of what I missed the first time around. I remember them being quite charming and creative with wonderful cinematography and casting. The magical worlds of Narnia and Middle Earth always trip me into the boundless, and I suspect the same will happen with Hogwarts when I’m alert enough to follow the storyline.
There’s so much more to write, but I’ll leave it here for now.
Seventy years ago last month, 10-year-old Gayla Peevey sang “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” on The Ed Sullivan Show, and it shot to the top of the charts a month later in December 1953. Peevey was a child star born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. The Oklahoma City Zoo later acquired a famous baby hippo by the name of Matilda.
The reason I point this out is two-fold. First, When Sonya was 10 years old, she looked exactly like Gayla. Check out the video below and see if you can see a resemblance. Sonya’s voice is higher, sweeter, and less accent-y, but even their musical presences are similar.
Second, Samuel absolutely loves the song, and he breaks into a dance whenever he hears it. He especially likes the version performed by Rend Collective, which has an animated version on YouTube. Below is a video clip of him dancing to the song.
If you’re interested in an update on Gayla Peevey, check out this article in Risen Magazine. She’s still alive, and she’s a believer.
