"All the noise, all the noise, all the noise noise noise noise!"

 

Perhaps that familiar grinchy phrase best describes our home this time of year.  We fill our home with goodies, smiles, decorations, activities, music, lights, and trees.  Every year I tell myself, "this will be the Pottery Barn year.  The year of less and the year of class."  And every year I put up the same familiar decorations.  We listen to the same music.  Those decorations show more wear every year and the music gets louder and scratchier every year.  Once in a while I pull together some sort of L.L. Bean type magazine cover decoration, and that makes me smile.  But most often our home isn't going to make any part of any magazine.  And that's okay.

The best part of putting up Christmas is watching the wise men fly.  Years ago a chubby cheeked H remarked how cool it was that the Wise Men can fly because they have capes.  And every year since then they fly.  All season long!  This year I heard Emma explain which one was her favorite--and it was because of its cape.

The other day I stole a moment to look at our Nativities.  Golden sunlight danced across our heavy-laden fir tree.  The bright snow sparkled out the window.  The donkeys were all gathered on the window sill.  The wise men all gathered together on the couch.  In one scene, Mary, Joseph, the shephards, and angels all were walking away from the manger.  But there was no manger.  On the shelf I found 4 mangers, all fully of smiling swaddling Jesus's, completely deserted by any doting mother figure or heavenly messanger.  Another grouping near that had all the characters huddled in a circle.  "Sweet," I thought.  "Here is an Ensign talk coming"  Baby Jesus was no where to be found and the closest one was upside down on the piano. 

My mom gives us a Nativity scene each year.  My husband gave me a treasure the first year we celebrated Christmas together as a family.  These all hold dear places in my heart.  As the years pass, they become more dear.  My kids know that and they take care of them as gently as four year old fingers can.  And in years to come I will be grateful for all those flying wisemen.  Merry Christmas!