The Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective
Our Christmas was special this year because we got to see both of our children and all our grandchildren. My mom and Les came, and my brother surprised us as well. Presents abounded, but that wasn’t the best part. I snapped lots of photos because getting together at the same time was what made it unique.
Another perk was the Brazilian theme. My daughter-in-law prepared some Brazilian dishes. We all had a great time trying them. The favorite was Rabanada, the Brazilian version of French toast. Crispy and cinnamon-y on the outside and custard-like on the inside. Then there was a chicken pot pie of sorts, called Empadão. It’s made with shredded chicken and has a delicate buttery crust that melts in your mouth. She and Phil also filled the children’s stockings with Brazilian candy, which they loved.
And while this Christmas was perfect in the sense of who was there, I have a category for all the things that go wrong—I call it “this was the year that …” We had plenty of those moments. This was the year some little person locked Emmitt’s door on the way out. When we realized there wasn’t a key, Emmitt grabbed a fork, or was it a knife, and popped the lock open. Problem solved. Crisis averted. Still, I loved it when Carolina asked, “Where did you learn that?”
It was also the year Phil’s first batch of mashed potatoes turned to glue. That man has cooked mashed potatoes for decades, but for the 2024 Christmas Dinner, it required a second go-round. Emmitt also enacted the “runs with scissors” meme. Thank the Lord, no one got hurt, though I’m the only one who thought it was hilarious. I taught school too long to get worked up over what could have happened.
In good time, Dave and I arrived home, tired but happy. Our daughter and her family followed shortly. The girls were quick to put on their new skates and skate in our large driveway. Our dogs were ecstatic about their new playmates. Later, Nancy came in carrying a gift of ham given to her by our neighbor and her parents. The timing of seeing old friends outside just as they drove up was noteworthy—a God-moment.
After another round of food, everyone settled in. The youngest wanted to watch her favorite movie at our house, “A Sea Turtle’s Tale”. The older girls got interested in a dinosaur movie with Papa. I crashed early that night.
The following afternoon, I drove to New Braunfels to house-sit and do several computer tasks that I procrastinate over at home. The only mishap house-wise was getting the rooster out of his crate before dawn. My best thinking doesn’t happen until after coffee. It was dark. I was all thumbs with the latches on the crate, and the rooster was impatient, crowing in my ear. Add a lost hamster—she had disappeared before I arrived, a dog who wouldn’t eat, and it always makes for an interesting visit. So when I entered the girl’s bathroom, my slightly hysterical thought was, “There’s a dinosaur in the bathroom.” Then I realized it was an image on the shower curtain.
The only way I can tie this sweet recounting of our Christmas into a faith message is a brief conversation I had with my brother. He was telling me about a recent date he went on. The woman had a different take on anything he said to the point of being argumentative. I finger-drew a box in the air and said, “Here’s her box. You’re not in it.” Fortunately, he thought my outspokenness was funny.
We can’t put God in a box, no matter how hard we try. However, He promises to be in our corner all the days of our life. I’ll take it.