It's Christmas Eve

It is Christmas Eve, and I am up rather early because I couldn't sleep thinking of everything I have to finish up before company arrives. Of course my fingernail broke (I have gel nails) and I had to lay aside plans and get that neatened up, and polish all the others to match. So, here I am blogging, and letting them dry. Yes, I can do that!
So, I thought I would share my christmas decorations.
The first picture is of our enormous tree, and my sweet boy. If he is around, you can't take pictures without him being in them because he is the star of course.
Notice the crazy quilt on the wall to the right of the tree. That hangs there all the time. It was made by Grandmother. She pieced the quilt together, then hand embroidered around the edges of each block using a different embroidery stich on each edge. It is magnificent. She even embroidered her name onto it.





It's hard to see what I have on the mantel, but trust me that it is lovely. I swapped everything out for Christmas decorations. The photo over the fireplace is of my Grandmother, the same one who made the quilt.





She also made the nativity scene that we use every year. When I was alittle girl, my parents had this same Nativity. When I got married, my Dad wanted me to have
it. It is truly a treasure. In all these years, only one piece has broken. One of the cows has lost her ears and horns. I put her out with the rest every year anyhow though because:
a. she completes the set
b. she is a good object lesson that Christ came for all of us, especially those of us who are broken.

One of the amusing thingd I love about my Grandmother's Nativity is that she used red paint to denote all the fingernails, as if everyone got their nails done for Christmas. Even baby Jesus has little red toenails.
As I have been pondering these things from my Grandmother, I realize that she was truly an artist. She had OCD (Obsessive Creative Disorder) just like me. I was never close to her because she was a bitter woman. She had a very hard life. I loved her though. And I am greatful for the gifts of creativity I have received through her.
It's gifts like this that I tend to forget at Christmas. I hope that this weekened we can keep our eyes on the gifts that are truly inportant in the flurry of flying wrapping paper. The gift of family, the gift of health, and most importantly, the gift of slavation, that lay wrapped in cloths in a stable thousands of years ago. A song by Chris Rice says it so sweetly for me- "Fragile fingers sent to heal us, tender brow prepared for thorns, tiny heart, who's blood will save us, unto us is born. So wrap our injured flesh around you. Breathe our air and walk our sod. Rob our sin and make us holy, perfect son of God.

(to my non-Christian friends who read this- Yes I know that not everyone believes this, but I do, and this is my blog, so please don't get offended. Just read it and see it as a way to learn about what makes me who I am and influences what I create.)