A Day Not Quite Like Any Other

It was a day just like any other day.

For me, it started at 1201 just after the stroke of midnight (I was at work.) The night was somehow long, even though it was busy. I was anticipating going home and knowing I couldn't just up and leave made the minutes drag. But eventually 0715 rolled around and I was free to go. I changed into my boots and trudged to the parking garage.

Waiting for my car to warm up, I played a quick game of Candy Crush (thanks dear daughter for introducing me to this addiction) and listened to the radio. Hark the Herald Angels Sing came across the airwaves followed by a recorded interview of the woman whose father penned Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Gene Autry's voice then filled my car as he sang of this famed reindeer while I pulled out of the garage and onto a relatively empty street. Was this really Wednesday?!

Sheetz, I was headed to Sheetz and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Free coffee mind you. Maybe today wasn't just like any other day. I mixed my coffee absentmindedly, half Breakfast Blend-half Creme Brûlée cappuccino and noted that just about everyone else in the store had a coffee in hand as well. A small gesture during the holidays, but a welcome gift nonetheless.

I pushed myself to get home. I turned up the radio. I rolled down the window. I shouted at myself to stay awake. I eventually got home. Today, it was important to get home ASAP; my family was there waiting. Again, maybe today wasn't just another ordinary day.

A breakfast casserole awaited me, hot in the oven and as I ate and sipped my coffee, the sounds of my family surrounded me as much as the myriad of colored and white lights did. The television was showing The Santa Clause 3 movie and someone made room for me on the couch. That's all it took and I was asleep. I wasn't dreaming; this day was different.

Today is December 25th. Christmas Day, the day we remember the birth of Jesus. This year it falls on a Wednesday and could be a day just like any other. Except….

…the mood out and about, in town, at work, at home is festive, caring, and different. 
…peace on Earth, goodwill toward men feels possible.
…the music is a blend of ancient and new but all tells the same story.
…the day feels like a holiday, a day when unnecessary work can wait.
…it was Holy and magical all at the same time.
…my kids are still up, playing games and giggling.

A day that could be like any other, except we choose to set it aside, to make it different. To remember that there was once a day that a baby was born, a Holy baby, a King. A day that we set aside, so we can remember and celebrate. A day that gives us an excuse to be together, to set aside time to talk, to eat, to play. A day that lets us be generous with our time, with our gifts.

I am thankful that today wasn't just another day. Happy Birthday Jesus.

Love & Merry Christmas,
Dianne

A Treasure in A Barn

 Today we went in search of a radiator to put in the basement. Where else does one look but in an old barn no longer in use for cows, cats and chickens but used for storage?

A barn with cracks in the ceiling, letting light filter down through onto dusty piles of forgotten hay.
A barn that is usually still and quiet with not even the dust stirring in the air except when the breeze blows through just right.

A barn that was undisturbed until today when a 10 year old boy descended.

A barn that was full of interesting nooks & crannies.
A barn that held wooden crates, horseshoes, doors and remnants of windows, sleds, and the odds & ends of construction. A barn that had forgotten places where barley, oats and wheat were once stored to feed the flock. An old car. A wagon. Pipes and pipe dreams.



















A barn. A simple barn.

Full of treasures, full of junk and possibility.
Full of the scent of memories.

Of hard labor carving stone and hewing logs.
Memories of a family who once lived here leaving their mark so the next family and the next would see who lived here once upon a time.



















Once upon a time in a barn"…hmmmm






And it came to pass that in a a stable long ago, a stable full of stink, animals and dirt, a stable that wasn't meant as a place of hospitality, that Joseph, Mary and their unborn baby were settled into by a frazzled innkeeper who did his very best to accommodate. That old stable, the safest, softest place that these weary travelers could go to on a chilly night when the stars shone through the cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the dust that was disturbed. Yes, it came to pass.

 On a night that held no promise for the magnificent, it became so for the Mighty God appeared.
In the dark, when fears could've overtaken them, there was peace, for the Prince of Peace was born.
When all felt lost and they may have thought they lost their way, they didn't, for they were being led by a Wonderful Counselor.
As a manger was provided, water was found along with fresh hay. They were provided for as only a father would take care of the ones he loves, as an Everlasting Father would.

Isaiah 9:6
For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace

In a barn, a treasure was found. A treasure beyond worth, this baby was wrapped gently in strips of cloth prepared in advance by his mother. She held him close as He nursed at her breast. He was placed, sleepy-eyed into the manger while His parents gazed in awe at the gift they'd been given.

In a humble stable, this baby, Emmanuel "God with us", made His mark on the world. His "once upon a time in a stable" became our happily ever after. This Christmas I am thankful for the reminders that have nothing to do with tinsel, lights and presents (although I do like all those!) but have more to do with the realness that Jesus was born in a stable, humbly but yet oh, so gloriously.

Love,
Dianne

When a Hallmark Moment Leads…Go!

It's all Amy's fault. She started it with her one little comment on Facebook:

"I can only take so much Hallmark……."

The conversation that ensued was delightful; invigorating while sparking something in me that I didn't know was there.  Actually, lack of sleep will do that too, as in everything becomes just a little more silly, a little more random, a little more….well, here's a quote from our conversation, inspired by the endless array of Hallmark Holiday movies:

"... A coffee shop. A widow. Or widower. Perfect snowfalls. Cute, darling children. A lost pet that the gentleman with perfect teeth returns to it's owner who, of course works in the coffee shop (the 2nd of her three jobs) just to pay the rent on her teeny tiny 2 room loft apartment which is over a shoe store where a cobbler mends her shoes just in time to be dressed for the dance at Joe's Crab Shack down by the bay. Where of course Mr. Perfect Teeth likes to go on Thursdays for the all-you-can-eat-crab-legs. But what is this? He has an injury and the lost pet happens to be a rescue dog and as he is drowning his sorrow in ice-tea and crab legs, who should waltz in but Ms 3 Jobs. And it is love."

(Stay tuned. The ending is at the end. The P.S.)


And to think, this random Hallmark moment came after only one cup of caffeine  coffee this evening. Inspired I tell you, inspired.

Or just the ramblings of a tired mind that has been overexposed the last few weeks to the predictable, happily-ever-after story lines that make up November and December on the Hallmark channel. Not that these story's are wrong or harmful to watch, they are just not always reliable pictures of reality.

Reality that says not every ending is happy, and there are children who will go to bed hungry tonight. And let's not forget the mother whose arms ache to hold that which was snatched from her. Or the dad who really has exhausted every resource and now he has to tell his wife and kids that the next step is the street. And what about the reality for many who are facing large college debts, have a degree but no job? Or the one living with regret over harsh words she can never take back?

Okay, Hallmark does have something in that they show stories of people in hard circumstances, overcoming grief and heartache, regaining a positive attitude. They are trying to show uplifting, encouraging moments to touch the hearts of those watching. But, their happy endings are because everything falls into place perfectly. The timing is impeccable, the setting is romantic to the extreme. In real life? Not always so.

I keep thinking of a song, an ancient hymn often sung during Advent as we anticipate the birth of Jesus,  the Saviour that was anticipated to save us all, not from every hurt, every unhappy ending, but to give us hope in eternal life, a different kind of happyly-ever-after. He would be the one to see me through the hard times, walking with me in the midst of the mess. He never promised my life would be a Hallmark movie, but I'll take it.

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Love,
Dianne

P.S.Mr Perfect Teeth reluctantly returned the dog to Ms 3 jobs. He leaves the Crab Shack, stumbling out the door. The next morning, he hears a strange noise when he wakes up. (No, it's not from what he ate the night before.) He makes his way downstairs and finds, next to a freshly brewed cup of coffee, a note. As it directs him to look outside, he does, and there he sees a puppy. With a Christmas bow. And next to the puppy is Ms 3 Jobs who has decided on a new career of training dogs for service to those in need of a companion to assist. Music cues. They walk towards each other. They pause in the doorway, mistletoe dangles above them….

A Bleak Midwinter's Song

In the bleak mid-winter 

Frosty wind made moan, 

Earth stood hard as iron, 

Water like a stone; 

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, 

In the bleak mid-winter

 Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him 

Nor earth sustain; 

Heaven and earth shall flee away 

 When He comes to reign: 

In the bleak mid-winter a stable-place sufficed 

The Lord God Almighty, / Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim 

 Worship night and day, 

 A breastful of milk and a mangerful of hay; 

Enough for Him, whom angels fall down before, 

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there, 

 Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air, 

 But only His mother in her maiden bliss, 

 Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am? 

 If I were a shepherd  I would bring a lamb, 

 If I were a wise man I would do my part, 

Yet what I can I give Him,  Give my heart.

This Christmas season I noticed this song, one that I am sure I heard before but dismissed in favor of the more well-known Christmas carols and hymns. But this year, I am touched by what it says, by the simplicity, by the sense of hope in the midst of all that is bleak, desolate and empty.

This season brings joy and hope, truly it does. But for so many, it is also a reminder of hurts, of remembering the anniversary of a death too close to a celebrated holiday, or rubbing of a wound, still so fresh and raw that healing hasn't even begun. It is a reminder of what is missing when all is supposed to be coming together.

In this song, I am reminded of a simple truth. Simple and unadorned.

Jesus, God in Heaven, became flesh, a squalling helpless baby boy, so that I can have hope in today, in tomorrow and for eternity.  

All because He loved me before I even was. 

Angels, Cherubim and Seraphim worship Him. Holy beings. 
And yet, I can also worship Him even when I feel like I am worthless and I have nothing to offer. 

My heart. That's all He desires. 

That's what I will give. 

Love,
Dianne

"In the Bleak Midwinter" is a Christmas carol based on a poem by the English poet Christina Rossetti written before 1872 in response to a request from the magazine Scribner's Monthly for a Christmas poem.[1] It was published posthumously in Rossetti's Poetic Works in 1904.

The poem became a Christmas carol after it appeared in The English Hymnal in 1906 with a setting by Gustav Holst. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_the_Bleak_Midwinter )

The Ornament Dilemma

It's official.

The tree dubbed Noel is up and dressed. 

It only took a week. 

I sent out a group text, which is sometimes the best way to get ahold of my crew. 

(Whoever said "it'll get easier when they all get older?")  

Maybe easier to corral and keep in one place, but certainly not less hectic. 

At least, that's how it is with us. 

All of my children, in one place at the same time. 

(Better than a soap opera.)

With live music too. 

So, after eating steaming hot hamburger soup, the ornaments were gathered from under my bed where each has a box labeled with their name. I had most of the lights on the tree already and out of the 4 strands that I pulled from the closet where they had been neatly coiled and stored, two of them worked and the other two joined the ever-growing pile of discarded lights. I really am not blessed when it comes to Christmas lights. 

There were some mixed feelings this year as we put up ornaments. You see, this is the first Christmas with one of the cubs out of the den and on his own. Well, not alone because he has found his perfect match and this is their first Christmas as man and wife. The dilemma was over his box of ornaments. 

I always intended that when my children grew up and moved away, that these ornaments would go with them. Like taking a piece of home with them wherever they went. Aaron thought I would want them to stay on my tree as it has always been. Neither of us wanted to step on the other's toes.

Actually, I think he just needed to hear it from me that it was okay to take them. It is a good thing to be starting out with Lisa-Anna and establishing their own traditions. As for the ornaments, well, I hope he puts them up somewhere but if not that's okay too. He still has them and the memories attached to them.

I will miss all the camouflaged snowmen though.

And if he looks sad, it was only because he put all the Christmas balls in one place on the tree and his sisters picked on him. Some things never change, even when they grow up and move away.

(And he likes to tease back. Don't let that pouty face fool you.)

As for the rest of us? No pouty faces here. Except for Adrienne who was still perfecting "the look". 

Don't worry, I don't know that the masks will become a new tradition, but this is what happens when I have too little sleep and too much night shift. 

Which makes it all the better to enjoy the Christmas tree...

Love,

Dianne and Noel, the finely festooned Christmas Tree

O Christmas Tree Named Noel

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are thy branches!
Not only green when summer's here
But in the coldest time of year.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are thy branches!

The other day (Actually, it's been days. Well, more like almost a week.), Ryan and I got permission from the other kids to pick out our tree this year. After school, I met him at the bus and we went to the Nursery at the end of the driveway. The tree lineup awaited us.

Tree #1. Too many branches pushed up at odd angles.

Tree #2. Too short.

Tree #3. Too skinny. 

Tree #4. Wrong shade of green.

Tree #5. Lopsided.

Tree #6. Hmmm. Let's see. I think this one has possibility. 

Time to roll up the old sleeves. Why?
Someone walked up the lane. Someone didn't bring the truck. Someone wanted to get the tree right now! No, that someone was not Ryan. It may have been Leo me.

I think we are ready. Right, Ryan?
He even flexed his muscles for me and cracked his knuckles before we started.
My little he-man.

3/10ths of a mile. That's our driveway. That's how long we had to go to carry our tree. We walked. We talked. We laughed like crazy. We named our tree. 

Her name is Noel. 

We made it to the house and got her inside where she is still awaiting, 5 days later, to be properly adorned and festooned with all matter of garland and light. 

In doing all this, the song "O Christmas Tree" or "O Tannenbaum" was in my head and I couldn't help it, I had to look it up. Did you know there are a few different versions? The verse at the top of this page is the one I always sing, the only one I can really remember. After I looked it up though, I found another verse that I like even better. This is the verse I want to sing when I think about our Christmas tree. 

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

How sturdy God hath made thee!

Thou bidds't us all place faithfully

Our trust in God, unchangingly!

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

How sturdy God hath made thee!

Love, 

Dianne

Celebrating Bender Style

The Raymond Bender Family Christmas. 
What can I say? 
Let's see….

Bringing together family and friends

Energetic eating from beginning to end

New babies cry, while abounding in loot

Deer hunters delight in tales of the shoot

Eager children sitting, awaiting in the center

Reading Luke 2 in all of its splendor

Cracker pudding is eaten, caught up in spoons

Happy aunts are singing with uncles in tune

Rejoicing again our Savior’s holy birth,

In Bittinger, Maryland and all of the earth

Sugar cookies and cakes fill a table overflowing

(Mothers and daughters )

The family sings of mangers, joy & cattle lowing

Merry Christmas is said along with many hugs

Always with laughter and tears with Bender family style...

So until next year, when we all meet again,

      Let’s remember this day with a knowing glad 

      grin. For our parents and grandparents have

      taught us all well, to rejoice in this season of

      Hope, Peace and Love.         

                         

Love,

Dianne

(Thanks to Carson Y. for some of the photos!)

A Pair of Boots

Boots.
I am thankful for boots.

When I was in middle school, during those awkward adolescent school years, I wanted a pair of boots that were cool. I wanted my feet warm, but the boot itself had to be cool.

1980's cool.

What I really wanted was a pair of tall, brown leather boots that would blend seamlessly with a wool plaid skirt and a matching sweater. I could picture it. I had a cousin, Sheila, who dressed like that and she was way cool.  

I could see myself wearing that skirt. Even now. And those boots? Yeah, I could wear them too. Except for the heels. Back in the 80's I would've done the heels (or at least tried!), but now, I am a little more practical.

That was my dream. 

My reality? Well, with three girls to outfit for the winter on a farmer's salary, the best solution was practicality and function, not beauty. I don't think we ever bought the actual brand of Moon Boots, but a generic version would "do just fine." And although they were warm and oh-so-functional, they weren't what this girl pictured wearing all day in school, with a dress. And they couldn't cost more than $15.00 and that was that. 

I knew it shouldn't be all about style and trend. I knew it shouldn't be about who I wanted to impress with my fashion sense, but I made it so. I hated these practical, boring boots that made me look, in my mind, very mundane. Boring. Blah. And to be honest, I wasn't so sure I liked that.

 I am not always proud of the way I thought about things in those days. And really, to stand out in the snow, awaiting the bus, with wimpy boots would have been asking for trouble. Cold feet. Pneumonia. But, I was proud. Too proud. And many days I would abandon the boots and wear regular shoes and after sliding down the driveway to the bus, often trying to keep my skirt from whipping up in my face,  all the while with everyone looking, I would be kinda ready to admit that wearing the boots might have been a good idea.

Fast forward 30 years.

I am thankful that I had parents who wanted to keep me and my sisters warm in the winter.
I am thankful that every year they let us get new boots.
I am thankful that they taught us the value of a dollar and that spending more for something doesn't always mean it was the best choice.
I am thankful for all 10 toes that survived frostbite thanks to those boots.

Thanksgiving is today. I am thankful for so much more than boots, but as I head out with my girls to take advantage of some sales, boots are on the list x3. We may even be able to keep it around $15 a pair. But even if we don't, I am thankful for some time to spend with my girls.

As I looked to try to find the perfect quote, the perfect verse to go with today, I couldn't.
All that comes to mind is "Give thanks with a grateful heart." 
Whether it is for the abundant feast we had today, the time spent with my loved ones, the warm house or a pair of boots, I want to be thankful with a heart that is bowed before the God that provides and cares for me.

Love,
Dianne

Sunday Cracker Pudding

~Sunday dinner~ 

Pork roast

Mashed potatoes

Mixed vegetables

Coleslaw

& 

Cracker Pudding

Ah yes, Cracker Pudding. 

It sounds odd. 

But it is delicious. 

Consisting of a homemade vanilla custard (made as only Leo can make it) and then mixed with whipped topping, graham crackers and bananas, it says Sunday afternoon like no other.

It may say Sunday, but it all starts on a Saturday night, with a batch of what we used to call Cornstarch Pudding at my house, Bri at his house. I honestly don't know what "Bri" means or if it is a Pennsylvania Dutch word, but it does sound better than saying, "Oh, we had cornstarch pudding for supper." Basically, it's milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla with a thickener added to make it pudding. Don't ask for a recipe because when Leo makes it, he just puts ingredients in the saucepan and that's that. I don't make it because, well, I don't have a recipe. (That gives you some insight into us as a couple doesn't it?)

I remember having to stir it forever until it got hot, so it wouldn't burn and then the second it began to boil up, the milk rising to the top of the pot, you would quickly stir in the mixture to thicken it. Often it would boil over for me. Still does.

Milk on a hot burner does not smell good.

Once hot, thick and with bubbles that pop oh-so-slowly, it's ready. Add some brown sugar right in the center and then stir it in, leaving golden brown swirls in it's wake. Mmmmmm.

Then, because you make enough for leftovers, put it in the fridge overnight so it's good and cold the next day. Sunday. Mix it all up with the ingredients that you have on hand and have warned everyone not to eat. (Bananas don't always last for long at my house!) Serve with your Sunday dinner. And later in the afternoon.

And that's that.


Love,
Dianne