They're gettin' nothing for Christmas

At least no toys.

Yep, my husband and I have banded together as one big collective Grinch and have decided our four little darlings won't be getting any toys this year. (Okay, the toddler is getting one toy, but he's the exception because he's the baby.)

Oh, they'll still get stuff -- some candy and fruit in their stockings, a few books, some art supplies -- just nothing that will require assembly, a battery or excessive shipping charges. Nothing that will become something cumbersome to step over or move around the play area as the new year rolls in.

They have everything they need now. Why pile on?

I've already talked about this with the three oldest and they were surprisingly willing to go along with it. "As long as we get something, we don't need any more toys," my 7 year-old said.

So here's what's on tap for Christmas 2009:

The toddler gets a toy -- a new toy telephone because we have only one and he never gets to use it since his three older siblings usually have it employed in their pretend play.

Other than that, it's stocking stuffers of the consumable kind;
Sticker books (good for car trips or waiting at the dentist's office)
Home-made coupon books good for things like a trip to the zoo or the natural science museum.
Art supplies like sketch pads, new crayons, colored pencils
The opportunity to pick out "gifts" in the form of charitable contributions to charities like World Vision, the local animal shelter or an ocean conservation society.
A shopping trip to buy toys for the annual charitable toy drive for poor kids

That's right. This year we're buying toys for OTHER kids, kids whose families have lost jobs, health insurance, homes, cars -- and there are a lot of them out there. Some of them I know personally.

And when I look at the ridiculously small amounts of money it takes to support a World Vision project for kids not only in foreign countries but right here in the United States, I cannot help but think that my kids are already heavily blessed and that now is the time to teach them what our faith teaches us about sharing what we have.

The list grows -- terrorists, silly people, and now . . .

Racists.

Apparently that's what those of us who still don't like the government's health care proposal are now. We are racists.

Why?

Because our president is half black and half white and because. . . because . . . because critics of the critics can't find anything else to hurl at us so they hurl the most inflammatory accusation they can find.

If you are opposed to anything President Obama says or does you must be a racist. Period. Now that should shut down all further discussion and dissent.

Enter the pesky Constitution.

This crusty old rag of a document is still in force and it guarantees the people our right to criticize our government at any time for any reason. It doesn't say we get to criticize only white politicians or black politicians or Greek or Latino politicians. It just says we have the freedom of speech and the right to petition the government for redress of our grievances.

When George Bush goofed up, I complained and no one labeled me as anything but a disgruntled taxpayer.

SoI wish Obama supporters would go on and get over the fact that President Obama is partly black and let me gripe about him, too. He's not black first and THEN he's the president. He's the PRESIDENT and as such he must not be put upon a pedestal and criticism of his performance deferred.

The blessing of an ordinary day

A Colorado family found itself in a big panic this morning when they thought their six-year-old son had found his way into the gondola of an experimental balloon, managed to untether it, and then floated 10,000 feet above the earth.

For several hours the cable news channels followed the story, their cameras trained on the silvery, lopsided object that looked more like an inflated chefs hat than the hot-air balloons of old.

When the balloon finally came to rest, rescuers found no boy inside.

Turns out he'd been hiding in his family's attic the whole time.

I watched this saga play out on a TV mounted high up in the corner of a local deli where I went with my mom and my children for lunch before running some errands. My heart was heavy as I thought about the mother of this boy and how worried she must have been. When my own four-year-old son came around the table to give me a hug, I hugged him just a little bit tighter than usual.

There we were, I thought to myself, sitting solidly on terra firma, our stomachs content from a lunch of soup and fruit and sandwiches, with a beautiful day outside and the possibility of stopping by a local church's pumpkin patch to pick up some live autumn decor.

A perfectly ordinary day. Perfect in its ordinariness. Extraordinary in its perfection.

We ran those errands and we did visit that pumpkin patch. As I watched my kids cavorting among the pumpkins, picking them up, turning them over, hollering to each other about this one or that, I couldn't help feeling blessed and sorrowful at the same time.

Blessed, because my children were all there and well and happy and fed and I was with them to witness it. Sorrowful, because I knew that just like that mother in Colorado there were many other mothers who, for one reason or another, were separated from their children and that there was nothing I could do about it.

For all the mothers who read this 'blog entry -- but especially those who homeschool their children and who sometimes feel like they haven't done enough, their kids aren't brilliant enough and their houses aren't tidy enough -- I hope it will encourage you to think of the most mundane of days as the greatest gift you've ever received.

If you got to be with your children today and everyone was alive and well, you were richly blessed.

Praise God for ordinary days!