by Jeanne Bice
“That’s my special surprise I wanted to ask Santa for,” Hailey chirped.
I chewed on a broken nail, mulling over what I would do. My budget was depleted and it was two days before Christmas. There was no way I would have time to fight the last-minute shoppers. Banking on the fact that she was as forgetful as a new puppy, I went about the business of preparing the best Christmas possible.
On Christmas morning, the house was full of relatives taking photos of my two sleepy-eyed daughters as they scampered downstairs to see what Santa delivered. Hailey stood in front of her gifts, her puffy baby cheeks smiling. She looked around, exclaiming over everything, and then said something I had hoped not to hear. “Santa forgot my fire truck.”
One of her aunts quickly diverted Hailey’s attention to the doll bed. I sighed in relief when, distracted by her new Little Mermaid tent, my daughter climbed inside to play.
After a few minutes of excited chattering and giggling, however, Hailey emerged with a grin on her face—and a little red fire engine in her hand.
“That Santa tricked me,” she said. “He hid my fire truck in the tent!”
For a moment, everyone was speechless. To this day, no one has ever admitted to the deed.
When my girls grew up, I knew it was time to bequeath the family Christmas script. I never questioned its origins, assuming it was inherited like DNA, the way brown eyes or big ears get passed on from one generation to the next. And I would have gone on believing that. But a letter arrived from Mom.
She touched on a few delicate issues in the letter and then talked about her lonely childhood. My eyes blurred as I read the words she had written: “I never had a Christmas with decorations, packages, or the experience of a tree.”
How a person never exposed to the love and excitement of a traditional holiday could pull off such a perfect performance was beyond me. In my eyes, it was like walking onto a Broadway stage and knowing the lines without ever reading the script. Yet, for my mother, there was no inheritance—she simply made it up.
Or did she?
When I look to a loving God, and the true meaning behind Christmas, I see his image in my mother. His was the script she followed. His was the same script she handed down for me to share with my children. I am passing his script to my children to share with their children. And that’s the Best Production of all.
What a Card
By Andrea Langworthy
When people tell me they have cut their holiday card list in half, I cringe. Even with the increase in postage and the high price of greeting cards, I can’t think of one person I would eliminate. In fact, my roster grows every Christmas.
I send cards to people we haven’t seen in twelve years and neighbors we wave to every morning as they drive off to work. I include friends who sent a card last year and those who have never sent one. Inside each card I write a message: “Happy Holidays” or “Let’s get together soon.”
My husband learned early that as much as I like sending cards this time of year, I love being on the receiving end even more. When he returns home each night after a long day at work, do I greet him at the door with a hug and a kiss of gratitude? No, I grab the mail from his hands and rush to the living room to see who has sent us their very best.
Even as a child, I couldn’t wait until the postal carrier dropped a load of cards through the slot next to our front door. Those were the years everyone sent tidings, necessitating two mail deliveries on the days closest to Christmas. Ah, the good old days . . .
Long before the advent of word-processed form letters or fancy paper imprinted with candy canes and poinsettias, my mother’s friend wrote an annual letter (typing each one individually on plain, white paper) that was a highlight of my Christmas season. I awaited its arrival, eager to read the latest news about this woman’s children who, though close to my age, were so different from me. First, they lived in California, home to Hollywood and Disneyland. Second, these children were perfect. The letter said so, year after year.
I wanted to meet the daughter, so beautiful her father had to “beat packs of potential boyfriends away from the back door.” I hoped for a glimpse of the son, a golden-haired Charles Atlas, certain to become a professional athlete or a movie star, so smart he could be the president, too.
“Just once,” I heard my father say, “I’d like to hear the truth about those little brats.”
I looked at Mom to see if Dad could be right, but all she said was, “Shush, Arthur.”
Over the years, I’ve thought about penning my own Christmas letter. After all, I call myself a writer. But the dilemma remains: truth or fiction? I relish every word of the letters I receive and appreciate the effort of the sender, but who would want to hear that we went way over budget when we redecorated? Certainly, I would need to embellish the story of last year’s winter vacation when we went nowhere and did nothing.
I’m afraid my holiday letter might receive the same reaction my daughter gave to one in my card basket this year. Folding the epistle in crisp fourths, she said in measured tones, “This is why I do not write Christmas letters.”
She’s right.
And so, I will continue to send my seasonal greetings. But my message this year will be brief and to the point: Happy Holidays. We should get together soon.
Cumbered Christmas
By Wanda Quist
The New Testament says Martha was “cumbered about much serving” and wanted Jesus to bid her sister Mary to help her. But Jesus said, “Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: but one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part . . .”
At Christmastime, I was Martha in the Bible. Every year.
I was “cumbered about much serving” with my daily duties as a mother of eight children. Every holiday, Martha-like, I became “troubled about many things,” as the expectations of a traditional celebration came around again. In short, I was overwhelmed.
I chipped away at the gift list. “What should we buy your parents?” I asked Robert early in the month, when there was still time to mail their package to Canada. “And what new Colorado mementoes can we send to my family in Oregon?”
I labored over the holiday newsletter. It was no small matter to condense a year’s worth of activities and adventures into two pages (or less), and be entertaining.
I tackled the kitchen. I climbed onto a stepladder and retrieved the blue glass cookie jar while the kids called out their favorites.
“Toffee squares!”
“Peanut butter blossoms!”
“Chocolate chip!”
“Sandies!”
We needed lots of cookies to last through the month of December. We filled plates for neighbors, friends, and teachers. We baked until we had no more room to stash cookies. Only then did I start making the fruitcakes.
I directed the seasonal decorating.
“We’re always the last people to put up our tree,” the kids whined.
In preparation, we moved furniture and vacuumed—everything. The kids helped assemble and decorate the artificial tree. To make certain each had a fair share, I counted red balls, blue balls, and painted wooden ornaments and doled them out. I placed each of the special keepsakes on the tree myself.
I orchestrated all the Christmas programming.
With our large family, holiday concerts meant trips to elementary, middle, and high schools. I always scheduled one family evening to look at lights, sing carols, and deliver those plates of cookies. I calendared my husband’s office party as well as the church social. When events conflicted, Robert went to one while I attended the other. Divide and conquer. That was my motto.
And, of course, I helped everyone buy or make one-of-a-kind gifts for each other.
Suffice it to say, the process involved lots of secret shopping excursions, tons of gift wrap, and ho
urs of time, thought, and effort. December, everyone knew, was not the month to get sick or injured. There simply wasn’t time.
All too soon, Christmas morning arrived with excited children sprawled around the still dark room, lit only by the tree lights.
Funny, but I can’t remember any of those unique presents we labored so diligently over. Robert and I don’t go caroling now and there are no school programs to attend. I don’t bake cookies and fruitcake, and I don’t miss doing it. There are fewer packages to ship, and cleaning the house isn’t as involved as it once was.
But one image is crystal clear.
Each of those Christmas mornings, we took time to gather for family prayer. We settled around the tree and read from the New Testament about the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ.
During those still, holy minutes, I gazed into each shining, upturned face and remembered why we celebrated Christmas. I remembered the “good part” that Mary knew.
Oh, there were ways I could have simplified, traditions I might have eliminated to feel less “cumbered.” Honestly, I wish I had.
But I’m eternally grateful for the sweet, spiritual moments we shared as a family on those sacred mornings.
Mary Christmas.
The Best Time of the Year
Christopher Garry
Our family comes together
each year at Christmastime
with smiles, hugs, and presents
and Christmas bells that chime.
We sit around the fireplace,
sharing stories of our life . . .
the good times and the sad times,
the successes and the strife.
Smells come from the kitchen,
foretelling our holiday feast,
turkey and carrots and potatoes
and, of course, the roasted “beast.”
Then around the great big table
all of us do squeeze.
We thank God for all we’re given . . .
then, “Pass the gravy, please.”
Yes, Christmastime is the time
when all the family’s here.
That’s why we all know
it’s the best time of the year.
Recipes
Mint-Infused Leg of Lamb
Serves 8
1 four-pound rolled boneless leg of lamb, trimmed of fat
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 cup fresh mint leaves
Juice from 2 whole lemons
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup mint jelly
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1/4 cup unsweetened applesauce
Unroll the roast and trim all visible fat using kitchen shears and a knife. Season both sides of the roast with salt and pepper.
In a blender, process together the mint leaves, lemon juice, olive oil, mint jelly, garlic, and applesauce.
Pour three-fourths of the marinade over the roast, reserving the rest for later. Cover and marinate the roast for at least six hours or overnight in the refrigerator.
Remove the roast from the marinade. Reroll the roast and secure it with twine at one-inch intervals.
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.
Bake for 50 minutes or until a meat thermometer registers 145 degrees F (medium rare) or degree of preference for doneness. Lamb is usually best when pink inside and crusty outside. Let the roast stand for 20 minutes before serving.
Bring the reserved marinade to a boil for two minutes. Pour over the lamb just before serving.
Ivy Larson, recipe developer and coauthor, The Gold Coast Cure, www.thegoldcoastcure.com
Gingered Brussels Sprouts Hash with Golden Raisins
Serves 4
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon grated ginger
2 large shallots, thinly sliced
Salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup golden raisins
1-1/4 pounds Brussels sprouts, trimmed, halved lengthwise, and cut into 1/8 inch slices
1 teaspoon organic butter
3/4 cup water
1 tablespoon orange juice concentrate
Heat 2 tablespoons of the extra virgin olive oil in a medium skillet over medium-high heat; add the ginger and shallots, season with salt and pepper to taste, and cook for about 8 minutes (or until shallots are softened).
Add the vinegar and raisins to the skillet and cook for an additional 3–4 minutes. Set shallots aside.
Heat the butter and remaining tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat; add Brussels sprouts, season with salt and pepper to taste, and sauté for 6–7 minutes.
Add the water and orange juice concentrate to the skillet mixture and cook for 8–10 minutes (or until the liquid evaporates).
Add the reserved shallots and season with salt and pepper to taste. Remove skillet from heat. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Ivy Larson, recipe developer and coauthor,
The Gold Coast Cure, www.thegoldcoastcure.com
Spicy Blackened Shrimp with Cranberry-Orange Salsa
Serves 8
This is a great holiday salad because it’s light, refreshing, and easy. You can add some dried cranberries just before serving for extra tang and a pop of color.
For the Vinaigrette:
4 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons honey
4 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
For the Salad:
16 cups mixed bagged salad greens
4 ripe pears, sliced into thin, lengthwise trips
1 cup chopped pecans
8 ounces light feta cheese, crumbled
In a medium bowl, whisk the vinegar, olive oil, honey, mustard, salt, and pepper.
In a large bowl, toss the salad greens, pear slices, pecans, and feta cheese together.
Add the vinaigrette, to taste, and serve immediately.
Ivy Larson, recipe developer and coauthor, The Gold Coast Cure, www.thegoldcoastcure.com
Mixed Greens Salad
Serves 8
This is a great holiday salad because it’s light, refreshing, and easy. You can add some dried cranberries just before serving for extra tang and a pop of color.
For the Vinaigrette:
4 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons honey
4 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
For the Salad:
16 cups mixed bagged salad greens
4 ripe pears, sliced into thin, lengthwise trips
1 cup chopped pecans
8 ounces light feta cheese, crumbled
In a medium bowl, whisk the vinegar, olive oil, honey, mustard, salt, and pepper.
In a large bowl, toss the salad greens, pear slices, pecans, and feta cheese together.
Add the vinaigrette, to taste, and serve immediately.
Ivy Larson, recipe developer and coauthor, The Gold Coast Cure, www.thegoldcoastcure.com
Goat Cheese and Pistachio Nut Crostini
Serves 8-10
This is a great holiday salad because it’s light, refreshing, and easy. You can add some dried cranberries just before serving for extra tang and a pop of color.
1/2 cup salted pistachios
4 ounces goat cheese
1/4 cup chopped parsley
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon raw honey
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons grated Parmesan
Salt, to taste
8 pieces sprouted whole grain bread (such as Ezekiel 4:9 brand), crust removed, bread slices cut in half diagonally
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Using a mini Cuisinart, process pistachios into fine crumbs.
Add the goat cheese, parsley, 3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil, raw honey, lemon juice, and Parmesan to the pistachio crumbs. Process ingredients until thoroughly blended. Season to taste with salt. Set mixture aside.
Arrange the sixteen bread triangles on a cookie sheet. Brush bread with the remaining 2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. In the preheated oven, toast the bread triangles for 10 minutes.
Remove from oven. Spread toast with the pistachio cheese mixture, return to oven, and bake for an additional 3 minutes. Remove from oven and serve warm or at room temperature.
Ivy Larson, recipe developer and coauthor, The Gold Coast Cure, www.thegoldcoastcure.com
Tabbouleh with Mint and Cranberries
Serves 8
T
his is a great holiday salad because it’s light, refreshing, and easy. You can add some dried cranberries just before serving for extra tang and a pop of color.
4-1/2 cups of water, plus 3/4 cup (reserved)
2 cups bulgur wheat
1-1/4 cups dried cranberries
3/4 cup finely chopped pecans
2 small cucumbers, seeds removed and diced
1/2 cup fresh mint, rinsed, patted dry, and chopped
2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
Bring 41/2 cups of water to a boil in a large saucepan. Add the bulgur and simmer for 10–12 minutes or until all of the water is absorbed.
