Nacimiento~ Nativity

Our Nativity collection began with these olive wood figurines, a gift from Saundra--probably in the early 1970s. We loved the olivey smell and the fact that they came from the Holy Land. Another Saundra gift was a beautifully illustrated book, The Christ Child with the text from St. Luke. It has been the narration to our family's nativity play for at least forty years.

When we lived in Germany, we took little Shawn to Nurenburg and the Christmas Market, where we bought this nativity in 1971. Our tree that year was decorated with flat wooden ornaments that we painted from a kit, and we somehow found the money to buy Shawn a little green trike with room for a passenger on the back--he gave rides to his little sister after she was born two months later.

When our children were  small they made this little bread-dough nativity with instructions from The Children's Friend--and a lot of help from the mother. The recipe was simply Wonder-type bread and Elmer's glue. Believe me, it was not easy to make fluffy bread and glue into a smooth paste. But hey! It hardened to a ceramic-like material and has lasted a good many years.

This (American) nativity was a gift from the family of several students that I taught at Morgan Elementary. The year before, they had given me money. After I sent a thank-you note telling them I'd used it for classroom materials, they tricked me, and gifted me with a certificate to the Rock Loft, a cute shop with nothing that would be useful for school. I have loved it for twenty years.

On a sisters trip to Guadalajara, Mexico (a spa vacation in which we all probably gained weight on the wonderful fresh food), I found this nativity. It reminds me of a long hike we took with a guide who took no food or water because he said he enjoyed being really, really hungry and thirsty before satisfying that urge. Never actually having been hungry, I could not relate; but I'm going to try it sometime. These slender figurines look a little hungry.

In Uganda, I had the choice of fabulous ebony wood carved figures, or this banana leaf nativity. I'm not sure if the price was a deterrent, but my selection, as always, was toward folk art. I'm sure I'll find baby Jesus once the holidays are over, but He seems to have disappeared for now.

Why wouldn't a Peruvian pesebre (nativity in Chile) not have a llama? And the cathedral in Lima has a painting of the Last Supper in which the disciples are eating cuy, a.k.a. guinea pig. I tried a piece that was about a square centimeter in size to say I had. It tastes like chicken. Paul made the sweet rock and wood stable.

Family reunion rock painting resulted in this stone representation of the Holy Family.

This one is from Z.C.M.I. Who knew this institution would ever become a thing of the past?

In a little town near the farm where we served our mission in Chile, clay objects of all types can be found, but the only pesebres I could see were these odd little animals sheltering the entire nativity. The one with the prickly pear cactus is endearing to me. We saw so many "tunas" (the fruit) and marveled at how they could be harvested and enjoyed almost universally.

Finally, my wool pesebre. I had seen a similar one at a yarn exposition in Santiago but didn't buy it, thinking I'd see them all over. Not so! I searched for months, finally finding a woman in Melipilla at a local craft fair. When I explained what I wanted, she said she would make one especially for me, but what figures did I want? Of course, I needed sheep, Mary and Joseph and the baby. What else? Well, how about a donkey? We gave her our contact information, and a couple of weeks later, she called to say they were ready. We met her at the town square. I think she was as proud as I was thrilled with how they turned out. You just can't imagine how adorable this little set is! The baby's little hands up near his mouth, Mary with her arms clasped, the burro's little haunches, the curly little sheep. I'm so in love with it!

 Christmas is the time of year to think about a young girl, a virgin, delivering her child; but not just her child, not just any child: God's child, our child, the Savior of the World. He came to earth as we all did, helpless and innocent, needing all the care that Mary and Joseph could give him until they gradually realized that He was the one who would ultimately care for them, and for us. He would save us from ourselves. He would show us how to love and how to forgive and how to live. My nativities remind me of my debt to Him and my love for Him.

Merry Christmas!

Yarn Snob

I love knitting! After a jam-packed day yesterday, Jay said to me, "Today was fun, wasn't it?" I thought a minute, reflecting on the hectic but productive day and said, "Yeah, but not as fun as staying home knitting."

I know what you're thinking.

But when it's snowy and slippery outside and the fire is heating the family room, there's nothing I like more than relaxing with some yummy yarn and a lot of time.

I love gorgeous natural fiber yarns. And I love yarn shops, but not necessarily all places that sell yarn. Good yarn shops have a certain vibe, a little humor. When we're in a distant city, I'll know which yarn shop to patronize by its name. Twisted, Black Sheep, Wooly West, Serial Knitters, Needlepoint Joint, Knitorious, Blazing Needles, Bad Woman Yarn, So Much Yarn, Webs (reminds me of the husband of a knitting friend in Chile who told me, "I married a spider."), Rumpelstiltskin, there's even an online knitting community, Ravelry, with thousands of patterns where people post probably millions of projects to show off their work and to help others decide what to knit and what yarns to use and where you encounter knitters who call themselves Willfulmina, Knotty Knitter, Mean Mrs. Mustard, ironical knitter--you get the idea--who write blogs like Yarn Harlot, I Am Addicted, My Sister's Knitter and Naughty Knitter.

And just look at the company I'm keeping!

I'm not sure Kiefer is really knitting. He just doesn't look relaxed enough (maybe it's the switchblade in his back pocket); but I'm pretty sure none of these folks are using yarn from Walmart.

I saw a bumper sticker that said, "Three things will survive the apocalypse: cockroaches, Twinkies and Red Heart Yarn." Ha! I curse the Christmas stockings I made with cheap acrylic yarn.
There are a zillion knitting quotes, some funnily unsuitable for this blog.

  

A few Chilean projects that kept my eyes off the scary roads and my mood tranquilo while Jay drove those 40,000 miles to our teaching appointments. The yarn from the white vest was a gift from the woman who owned the sheep, sheared and spun the wool and then gave it to me to knit. I love every nubby fiber in it! I have a stash of beautiful handspun wool she sent with us for some matching sweaters that are on my list of things to knit this winter.

Knitters love mastering a new technique, finishing a big project and starting something new. I like having something difficult on my needles and another project that I can work on at traffic lights, waiting at the dentist or during a good conversation. I used to knit at Busch Stadium. Knitting is frowned on at the symphony. I discovered this at Powell Hall in St. Louis, where there was a sign advising patrons of such. I managed to keep my own needles in my purse despite having the urge a few times; and seeing others knitting when I don't have anything to do sends me into paroxysms of knitters' envy. On the other hand, discovering a fellow knitter on an airplane, a cruise ship, or in the back row at church creates an instant sisterhood. We are always interested in each other's projects.  In Santiago, there's a whole block of little yarn stores that I discovered and visited several times months before we realized it's in the very center of the downtown central market and tourist destinations.

My knitting is free for people I love. For any other purpose, there's no price high enough. 

Saundra and I had just left a yarn shop and were in a gift store that had some nice socks. As we were handling them, I said, "Eight dollars? Ha! For twenty seven dollars and two weeks of my time, I could make them." This blogger said it better than I could. I leave it with you as I go off to do a little knitting:

When someone knits something for you, what they are really giving you is love.

It might look like a scarf, a hat, some gloves or socks, a tea cozy…whatever. It might be fine, classy, and beautiful. Or, it might be an ill-advised combination of colors in a horrifyingly inconsistent striping pattern. Either way, that handknit piece is a gift of love. You were thought of as the person chose the pattern, picked the yarn, worked a swatch, cast on, knit along, made mistakes, tangled their yarn, came to the end, cast off, wove in the yarn tails, and gazed at their completed piece. Every step in the process involved love.

Love, the secret of and key to the universe. Someone gave that to you. By knitting you a gift. Do you realize how divinely special that is? (Scrumptious Living blog)

Granddaughters on Horses

Our third grandchildren trip was the best yet. I'm not sure what made it so great, but the combination of just the right activities for the ages of Claire and Harmony and their particularly loving and sparkly personalities made the week one that we will all remember for a long time.

 Of course a week at the Rockin' R Ranch involved cowboy boots and horseback riding! I loved the trail rides, but trying to get the horses to GO in the arena was problematic. I kept thinking of Grandma Maughan who was such a horsewoman and did not take kindly to the suggestion that she ride a gentle horse. She wanted one that had some spirit! We, too, groaned when we were given certain lazy horses who took advantage of our inexperience.

 Hay ride through the Antimony countryside

 Harmony loved the pond, the dog that swam with her chasing ducks, and the rope swing.

 

 Can you believe the cowboy rock formation behind the cowgirls?

 Claire was really good at archery!

Play hard all day, line dance, pet animals, learn some new skills, 

eat well, make new friends, ride a tube down a river, explore,

read a good book together, go to bed tired;

do it again the next day,

bond forever with precious grandgirls.

Little we see in nature that is ours......but these are mine

When Uncle Eldon water-witched our property in Southern Utah soon after we bought it, he scanned the hillside and named all the trees and shrubs: ponderosa, fir, oak, manzanita, squawbush (aromatic sumac), serviceberry, rabbit brush, sagebrush, piñon pine, juniper. I knew them already; I taught my fourth-graders the plants of Utah, and these were a small representation--those typical for the elevation. It's good to be able to claim some parts of nature that are our own.

The rounded tops and butterscotch-scented bark of the ponderosa pine. Mine.

The 6,000 foot elevation difference between the rim and the river: Mine.

The upright hardiness and squishable yellow centers of colorful hollyhocks. Mine.

Manzanita, with its scratchy round leaves and smooth red bark. Mine.

Squawbush and its mouth-puckering flavored berries to put in hiking water bottles: Mine.

Rubbery rabbitbrush that take over with a bit of liquid encouragement from water. Mine.

Piñon pine's sticky sap and reluctance to bear fruit but once every decade or so. Mine.

Growing up, it was this color--not the volume--of water that signified 'flood.' Mine.

Utah's incomparable cumulous topped with cirrus clouds in August. Mine.

The 'pinks' of Southern Utah: view from the rock-gathering hike. Mine.

Maidenhair fern in Zion. Mine.

I love recognizing sacred datura; and I know not to eat it. Mine.

Weeping rock at its best. Mine.

Zion. Mine.

The knowledge that I can get prickly pear slivers out of my skin, even the littlest ones, with duct tape. Mine.

That dry rustling sound of cottonwoods in the fall. Mine.

Arm extended--two finger widths above the horizon, twenty minutes to sunset. Mine.

Mountains to the east. Lake to the west. Mine.

Little we see in nature that is ours, but I'm claiming these eighteen.

Getting and Spending

We've been home from our mission for almost three weeks: 19 days in which we have spent a lot of money. On our mission we bought food. We spent our time doing things other than getting and spending. We've pretty much made up in three weeks for the eighteen months of abstinence. I think Wordsworth was right, "Getting and spending we lay waste our powers; (Little we see in nature that is ours....)

Yes, the 23 year old carpeting had to go, and the tile countertops, too. Wallpaper has gone out of vogue and it's now back in, but I'm not trying to catch up with the latest. I'm over it. The Bagley house was due for an update, and is getting one in the next few weeks; but the time and energy involved in making these changes has been significant and I'll be glad to return to life without consumerism.

I realize since being home how materialistic our society is. We are bombarded by temptations to spend money almost at every turn, and we haven't turned on the TV but once in the time we've been home. We haven't subscribed to a newspaper. We throw away the junk mail without reading it. I think it's just the the presence of so many stores, and so many things in those stores that is overwhelming. Do I need this, might I need that? Objects that I didn't know existed before seem to clamor for my attention.

And then there's the internet. I've been up for an hour an a half this morning. I like to read my email and check in with FaceBook before hitting the scriptures and my journal. An hour and a half! With five minutes of real email and two minutes of catching up with friends and family online. That leaves eighty-three minutes of being a consumer. Eighty-three wasted minutes. I might as well have been watching TV. Despite 'unsubscribing' from every commercial email I receive, I still sift through many messages urging me to take advantage of this fabulous offer or that incredible bargain every day. If I click on a website hoping to select a good color for bedroom walls, suddenly I'm subscribed to every home decorating and furnishing store ready to meet my needs. And the angst of customers fearful of making the wrong color choice is there for me to read about. I now have several more to unsubscribe from just by that one click.

I should have been a pioneer. Nothing to buy.

BUT: two weeks later, here's what our house is starting to look like~~