A Christmas Eve Feast- Little Bit Swedish, Little Bit American

"That feeling you get on Christmas Eve."

Nearly 35 years ago, Mom lost her mother to brain cancer. Her father had been absent from the family for almost 20 years. As a young mother, her heart broke to think that there would be no more Christmas Eve dinner over candlelight at Mama's house. Christmas Eve had always been a cherished night for her, as it is for most Swedes. She decided that she must maintain the special traditions of this blessed evening among her own small family. 

I have grown up loving Christmas Eve more than any other day of the year. Mom has maintained much of the Swedishness of the holiday and has added a few American twists. Many of the traditions of our childhood have been altered over the years, but this one remains the same, and for this I am grateful. 

Everyone always thinks that this candlestick belongs at a Hanukah celebration, not a Christmas one. But there are in fact seven candles, not eight, on this candlestick, and every Swedish household has one. Helmer made it for Mom years and years ago, and it has always been a staple at Christmas Eve. 

I may be wrong, but I believe this candleholder is nearly a century old. Mom inherited it from her mother who inherited it from her mother. 

 While Mom finishes preparing dinner, we all gather for our annual family photos in front of the tree. We prefer to take these shots before the grandkids have ranted their hairdos and outfits into a mishmash, and before the Christmas bloating has officially settled in.

I can't tell you how excited we were to have Steve and Vye home with us for Christmas! We are happy that their adventure in Victoria has come to a close and that they've left Eden and come back to Zion. It's as though they never left.

Oh, the joy of cousin time on Christmas Eve!

It's nice to see that the Christmas Paparazzi was alive and well this year.

The menu on the eve of Christmas is nearly as good as the company. This is food we enjoy only once a year. It wouldn't be Christmas without siele. Now I am going to butcher the spelling of every Swedish word in this post. Sorry. Siele is pickled herring, and the Swedes love their raw fish. Notice the cute glass fish dish bearing the specific purpose of housing the siele. This is one Swedish delicacy that I have never even had the desire to sample. I dislike cooked fish. Pickled fish is even less desirable, but Mom adores the stuff.

Amongst my favorite things is the prickey-korve, once again, horribly misspelled. A delicious salami that one can only find at specialty Scandinavian shops these days.

Then there is Mom's homemade Swedish bread. It's the fennel that makes this wheat bread different and delicious. Next to it lays another of Mom's favorites, knackebrod, or crisp bread, or in my mind, a big bite of cardboard. Some things we grow up with never become palatable.

This is my dad's grandmother's homemade mustard. Dad stood in great-grandma's kitchen one afternoon and measured every ingredient as she whipped up a batch of her homemade mustard so that Mom could duplicate it. 

I love that we mix the recipes of our Idahoan great-grandmother with our Swedish grandmother in one meal. I think of Great-Grandma Fellows and Mor Mor every year as I slather my Swedish bread with mustard and top it with delicious cured meat and fine cheese. All of the people I love as well as the history they are a part of come rolling back to me with each heavenly bite.

The American part of the meal always includes some ham and funeral potatoes. I guess the potatoes are not so much American as a Utah Mormon tradition. This is made manifest in the absolute shortage of cream of chicken soup and frozen hash browns in the grocery stores this time of year. 

It also wouldn't be Christmas without Mom's record player belting out some of our favorite Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas albums from our early childhood.

Mom says that one year, as a little girl, she counted the number of lit candles in her home on Christmas Eve. She counted over 70. They had to turn off the furnace and open the windows. We have not nearly so many lit these days. But there are enough to bring that warm glow that seems to always beckon in the Christmas Spirit. 

Even the grandkids enjoy their meal by candlelight.

And the littlest of grandkids get to eat by Fisher Price lantern, because you know, it's safer and you still get the general idea.

This time that we come together and honor our heritage, our loved ones alive and well, and those who wait for us beyond the veil is a precious time. As the candles dance, we are reminded of He who is the light of the world. As we devour slices of warm bread, we remember He who is the bread of life and feel gratitude in our hearts that through Him this family is eternal and these bonds will last through this life and into the next.

Tis the Season to Make a Joyful Sound

"The earth has grown old with its burden of care, but at Christmas it always is young, the heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair, and its soul full of music breaks the air, when the song of angels is sung." -Phillips Brooks

One of the great perks of having musical children is that during the holiday season they get called upon to perform in various settings. As we support our little musicians, we find ourselves at all sorts of lovely events that we might not normally have attended. Which means that we end up with an extra healthy dose of Christmas spirit, because nothing brings Christmas spirit quicker than a Christmas carol or hymn. I lean towards the more traditional Christmas music myself. I prefer to hear the Sussex Carol or I Saw Three Ships over say I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus or Frosty The Snowman. But to each his own.

The fun began with Jonah's Christmas piano recital. He hates these things. The kid would prefer to never ever be in the spotlight. Seeing that it is a parent's job to consistently force their child out of his or her comfort zone, Jonah did not get out of this one, despite his best efforts. We just have to make sure that he is ultra prepared. And he was. Contrary to his grim prediction that he was going to kill over half way through his piece, he not only survived the ordeal but nailed his rendition of Joy to the World. It was one of about five renditions that morning, and it never got old.

Believe it or not, that is a look of relief on his face.

That night was Sabrina's turn. She had gotten a last minute phone call begging her to play for the ward Christmas party, an event we hadn't really planned on attending. It ended up being a delightful evening, and Sabrina played splendidly. I don't know that she has ever played a solo for a crowd quite this big before. For a girl who's nerves can get the best of her, she confidently walked onto the stage and played Silent Night, unaccompanied, and the Spirit was instantly in the room.

Two nights later, Jessica played prelude and intermission music for Alicia's studio's Nutcracker performance. 

Jessica's cello yearns to play in such concert halls. His sound just fills the room. I could listen to the girl play all night!

And we got six free tickets to watch the Nutcracker! Jessica sat next to me and purred as we listened to two hours of Tchaikovsky, oh and the dancers were beautiful as well.

The next week brought the junior high Christmas concert. This school does something great. They couple the concert with an art show. Art students' work is displayed, and the orchestra students play in solos and ensembles as entertainment during the show. Sabrina and Abby played a beautiful version of Still, Still, Still as well as Carol of the Bells.

It was so fun to watch Sabrina and Spencer play together! They chose God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman as their duet. As you can see, I've brainwashed my children to only like traditional Christmas carols, that way I don't have to listen to cheesy viola arrangements of Santa Baby and other such nonsense. But you know, to each his own. 

Jessica's orchestra teacher was asking recently about what instruments all of my kids play. When I told her that we had a cellist, violist, and two violinists (including myself), she said, "You have a perfect family string quartet!" I had never really thought about that, but we do. As Neil and I were bringing these babies into the world, I wasn't really thinking, "Now this one will be a violinist, and we need to have at least one more baby so that we can have a violist to round out the ensemble!" But I must say that it has worked out nicely. Of course, I only count as half a violinist. So it's not quite a full quartet.

Sabrina played a few solos to fill in the time between ensembles. That girl gets into her music!

I'm a proud mommy right now. Both Sabrina and Spencer earned the coveted spot of first chair in their respective sections this term. That means that all of my instrumentalists are currently sitting first chair right now. This was a big deal for Sabrina because she got to be concert mistress for last week's concert.

She was beaming as she stood up to lead the orchestra in tuning.

It is also a big deal for Spencer seeing that he is only a seventh grader. Spencer found himself in the advanced orchestra this year due to the fact that musical theater conflicted with intermediate orchestra. Two weeks into the school year, he was begging me to move him out of the class. "It's too hard! I don't know what I'm doing," were his exact words. Most things come very easy for Spencer. He tends to excel with little effort. So when things do get challenging, his first instinct is to bail out. And since it is my job to consistently force my children out of their comfort zones, he didn't get out of this one. I told him that I was confident that if he practiced hard enough, he would find himself caught up to the 8th and 9th graders in no time. I love when I'm right. And I love when my kids learn the value of doing hard things. At the end of the night, he told me how glad he was that he was in the advanced orchestra. So am I.

The other benefit of my kiddos' seating arrangement is that I can get them both in the same shot. It's a little thing, but I was excited about it. The seating will all be different by next term, I'm quite sure of it. But for now, this mother will relish her children's accomplishments.

Last night was the final concert of the season. Yesterday was a little bit crazy. Neil wanted to wire his own internet and surround sound in the new house to save money. While our house sat with minimal progress for nearly two months, everything is happening at once now. The insulators and sheetrock guys are ready to go, and we happen to be in the midst of the shortest days of the year right now. Which means that Neil had to take work off to try to hurry and run some wire before they start closing up the walls. 

While he was madly stringing wire, I was madly running to the store for cakes and cookies and making creamy vegetable soup for Jessica's fundraising dinner at the high school. Neil rushed through the door covered in insulation the same time I was running out the door with crockpots and baked goods. "Get showered. I'll meet you at the school," I said as I kissed him and ran out the door.

Jessica and Katelyn played lovely Christmas duets while we ate soup and rolls and salad. The orchestra is going to San Francisco this year, so the mad dash to come up with fundage has begun.

Once our tummies were full, it was time for the concert. I loved this concert for two reasons. Jessica got to guest conduct during one of the pieces. 

This was quite a treat for this child who already owns her own baton and dreams of conducting her own little band of musicians someday.

I also loved it for the beautiful Corelli piece the orchestra played, complete with quartet solo parts that were so beautiful! Again, Jessica's cello really knows how to sing in such settings. Well, she knows how to make him sing.

The night ended with a piece that has become tradition. Christmas Sarajevo. Jessica hates the piece, but her teacher loves it and so does the crowd. It's kind of a Transiberian style Christmas medley which is pretty intense when you're playing a big instrument like a cello. Jessica finishes this piece feeling like she just won a sawing contest.

Jess finished the night with a yearbook photo.

 And a silly shot with her kindred spirit and favorite stand partner.

Lest you think that this was the end of our evening, oh no no no, it had only just begun. You see Jonah is doing colonial days at school today, which means he had to do a colonial project. He of course picked making homemade bread for his project. And naturally this is a project that any fifth grader could pull off single-handedly. I love these parent projects disguised as student projects. Jonah didn't want to make just any bread. He wanted to make his dad's special Finnish sweet bread so as to dazzle all of his classmates. 

So after spending all day in a 28 degree house pulling wire and wrestling with insulation, Neil began, at 9:00, a three hour bread making process. He's just that kind of dad. I stayed up until midnight to help him. And by help, I mean sat at the counter and watched Neil braid bread and begged for a slice of that piping hot piece of heaven the minute it came out of the oven. You know, because I'm just that kind of wife. I was too tired to snap a picture last night, but here's one from three years ago just so you can get the gist of what kind of bready goodness we sent Jonah out the door with this morning.

One thing I'm sure the colonists didn't have to worry about was coming up with laborious projects to do in behalf of their ten year old's education. But then they didn't have convection ovens and paper plates and insulated homes wired with internet and surround sound either. I'll just shut-up now and go get myself a slice of bread. Merry Christmas!

A Time of Gladness

"And what is it that ye shall hope for? Behold I say unto you that ye shall hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise." -Moroni 7:41

Nineteen years ago today, my dad slipped peacefully from this life after a three year battle with a merciless disease. On the evening of December 17th, Dad died. Four days later, we buried him. And four days after that, we celebrated Christmas. Some may wonder if Christmas is forever tainted with sadness for our family after dealing with such tragedy so close to the holiday. I would say that it is not, never has been, not even a little. 

Sure my heart aches just a little bit each year about this time when I think about him. I wish he was here to see his beautiful grandchildren. I wish he was here to laugh with and share a delicious meal with.(Our passion for food came from him.) But Christmas has always been a joyous and sacred season for our family. It was when Dad was with us, and it has continued to be so since his death.

I can only attest this resiliency of spirit to my knowledge of God and his great plan of happiness. In a way, it is a blessing that Dad died during this time of year. I can not think of Dad's death without my thoughts instantly turning to the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

The sting of death is taken away by He who suffered in Gethsemane and died on Golgotha. His death was but a small moment. His resurrection is eternal. Jesus Christ lives. He is my Savior and Redeemer. It is through Him that burdens can be lifted. It is through Him that my sorrows have been lightened. It is through Him that I have found joy amidst the vicissitudes of life. He suffered that we might repent. He died that we might live again. He lived the perfect life that we might have the example. 

How can one wallow in sadness when there is so much good news to rejoice in this time of year? I know that because Christ rose again, that my father too will rise again, as will we all. I know that family relationships are eternal. We are parted from Dad for but a moment, and our reunion with him will be sweet. For this reason, Christmas will continue to be a time of gladness and rejoicing for me. A time that I choose to look to God and live rather than look to the past and weep. 

"...and believe in Jesus Christ, that he is is the Son of God, and that he was slain by the Jews, and by the power of the Father he hath risen again, whereby he hath gained the victory over the grave; and also in him is the sting of death swallowed up." -Mormon 7:5

Pizza Night!

"There is one thing I have never taught my body how to do, and that is to figure out at 6:00 a.m. what it wants to eat at 6:00 p.m." -Erma Bombeck

We eat out too much. It is the plight of families with very involved teenagers. Somehow I scheduled every one of my kids' music lessons from 4:00 to 5:00 this year. I thought it was a brilliant idea at the time. What I forgot was that it was going to take a stinking hour to get my kids home from school each day because I now live on the nethermost northern regions of Layton, and they are attending school on the far reaching southern borders of the city. Having to cross three school zones and a train crossing just to retrieve my children from their respective schools is either going to give me a heart-attack, or I may slip slowly into madness and then have a heart-attack. But I digress.

Anyway, when we have orchestra concerts and other such events on a school night, and I'm at piano or viola lessons until 5:00, the whole dinner thing becomes problematic. But I decided this week that I was going to be uber organized and that my family was going to get a home-cooked meal despite our busy schedule. Last night, we would be attending the Nutcracker. Hawaiian haystacks was on the menu. At 12:00, I frantically got chicken and gravy in the crockpot. At 2:30, I furiously began cutting vegetables but had to stop because I had to rush out the door to begin my hour ordeal of picking up the kids. I came crashing through the door at 4:45, after leaving Jonah's piano lesson early, and began grating cheese and chopping chicken all frenzied-like. I threw dinner onto the table at 5:00. We had to leave by 5:10. Everyone had to inhale their food, and there was no time to clean up dinner. I got home from the Nutcracker at 10:00 and got to clean up dried up rice, warm soggy vegetables, and a crockpot of cream gravy that had now shellacked itself to the sides of the pot.

This is madness. The kids have an orchestra concert tonight, and...I'll be picking up a pizza, thank you very much!

Dear Teacher,

"It is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas." -Charles Dickens

Am I the only one tempted to send a polite email to my children's teachers asking them and their blasted homework to take a flying leap during this festive season that is supposed to be all about worshipping the Savior and enjoying precious family time? I'm just not interested in my children's book reports and spelling words this time of year. 

If I actually were brave enough to send such an email, it would go something like this:

Dear Teacher,

I am sending you this email to inform you that I will not be requiring my child to do his/her homework during the month of December. It is not that I don't value what you are teaching my child, I just wish to spend the precious evening hours in which my child isn't in your classroom reveling in a most sacred holiday. I'm sure you will understand and in fact appreciate not having to grade said homework, because perhaps you have warm family traditions that you'd like to relish during the month of December. Rest assured, their core curriculum will not suffer. They will still be learning. 

But I'm afraid the only math my child will be doing this month will be the careful calculating of how much ginger is required in a double batch of gingerbread cookies. And the only reading he will be required to do is that from Dickens' Christmas Carol, as we gather around the Christmas tree each night as a family and read from this timeless classic. Don't bother giving him any science homework, because he'll be too busy determining the melting point of a marshmallow floating in a cup of hot cocoa. As for history, the only account he will be studying is that from the life of Christ as we, once again, will be gathering around the Christmas tree each evening to read a chapter from the book of Luke. Don't worry about his math facts. He's already carefully divided four into 24 to determine how many times he gets to enjoy the treats from our countdown calendar.

As for the more elective curriculums, we've got that covered. Foods class?... no worries, we'll be baking breads and cookies all month. Art class?....there is a beautiful exhibit going on at BYU right now, and since the kids won't be doing homework, there will be plenty of time to go see it. Gym class?...ah, the children will be running and jumping from lighted tree to glowing nativity as we catch all of the light exhibits in the area. Not to mention the gleeful ranting they'll be participating in with their cousins all month. Music?....don't even get me started, for some of the most beautiful music ever written will be echoing through our home as we bake cookies and read Dickens. There are all sorts of lovely concerts that we will be attending, because there won't be homework of course. 

Don't worry, they'll show up in January bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ready for a healthy dose of algebraic equations and "creative" book reports. And I may even be happy to support them in their endeavors having spent a most delightful and completely uninterrupted holiday season with these children I love so dearly and miss so much during the school year.

Thank you for your full cooperation and understanding. And have a lovely holiday.

A Most Grateful Parent
Mrs. Watson

I think this email is so darn convincing, I may just go ahead and send it. I'm sure the teachers will be nothing but cooperative. Don't you think?

Thanksgiving Weekend

"'Tis the gift to be simple, 

'tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down 

where you ought to be,

And when we find ourselves

 in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley 

of love and delight."

-18th century Shaker song

Wednesday, we went and saw Frozen, partly to bring in the holiday and partly to celebrate Sabrina's official birthday. We loved it! We loved it because it took place in Scandinavia. The place where we are from. It's about time Disney produce a Nordic princess! We loved the humor, particularly that pointed at little things like lutefisk and glog. We were perhaps the only ones in the room who could appreciate such humor. 

We woke up Thursday morning and watched the parade and the dog show of course, while I made a chocolate pie. I can only cook pies of the graham cracker crust variety. The kids cheered on their favorite dogs as we eagerly anticipated which feline would win Best In Show. I'm not a dog lover, but I can't help but die over the cuteness of the Toy Dog category. Those perfectly coiffed tiny puffballs toddling across the floor are almost enough to make me run out and buy a puppy, but not quite enough. 

Once the dog show was over, and I had put my roll dough in the oven to rise, we had just enough time to run over to our new house. I think it's the first time we've been over to the sight with the whole family.

This house building process has been, in a word, SLOW. But enough of my first world problems. The truth of the matter is, I can't feel anything but gratitude for these four beautiful healthy children who love each other and for this beautiful home that will one day house all of our warm family memories.

It doesn't matter how old you are, you stick a person on a massive slab of wood, and you just want to unleash your inner Gene Kelly and break out into a tap dance. Which is exactly what my kids did. Spencer schooled everyone on a little Charleston as well, as he's the pro after so many Thoroughly Modern Millie rehearsals.

This is the place we plan on living out the remainder of our years. As I look at this skeleton of a home, I can picture graduation parties and bridal showers and large family dinners and holiday parties. I can hear the little pitter patter of grandchildren's feet. I can see Neil and I growing old together here as we welcome in-laws and others into our lives. 

 One can't help but stop in a doorway or a window and strike a pose.

Enough imagining where all the walls were going to go in this house and where we're going to put all of the furniture. It was time to get home and begin the mad rush to get Thanksgiving dinner on the table.

I don't know how we managed to pull off Thanksgiving without Grandma this year, but we did it. Grandma was such a good cook and enjoyed it so much. She took on most of the cooking herself, leaving Teresa and I with the token tasks of a measly fruit salad or vegetable tray. We had to muster up what meager culinary skills we had to produce a full Thanksgiving feast this year. I coached Neil through making Grandma's legendary sweet potatoes, while rolling out homemade rolls. Teresa made Grandma's legendary clam dip as well as her regular fruit salad and some stuffing. She even made a pie...with real crust. Kudos to her. All in all it was a lovely feast, though we missed the one who filled every delicious bite with love.

While most people are braving the crowds on Black Friday, trying to win the smokin' deals, I'm sitting in Mom's living room with my sisters wrapping presents in my pajamas. Several years ago, we dubbed the day after Thanksgiving "Girls Day Of Wrapping at Mom's House". It motivates us to get our shopping done early. We sit in our comfy clothes and giggle and hash out problems as we listen to Ed Ames serenade us with a little "I Wonder As I Wander". And when we're all done, we order take out, get out the leftover pies, and giggle some more as we stuff our faces. It is honestly one of my most favorite days of the year. I come home rejuvenated after talking for ten hours straight, and the kids are thrilled with a minivan full of gifts ready to go under the Christmas tree. Sorry, I took not a single photo of this treasured tradition, because did I mention we were in our pajamas and stuffing our faces most of the time?

What with all of these presents, we better go grab a tree. That's what we did Saturday afternoon. We are one of the last of the live tree shoppers. I feel a certain kinship to the other people we see at the tree lot. I feel like we have a special connection. I feel like we understand each other as, every year, we fork over another $65.00 for a tree that we are going to take home and pray it survives the next four weeks. And here is the tree that is currently the seventh member of our family. We are that attached to this living thing that breathes and drinks within our home and produces a smell that just can't be duplicated. We love it. Bring on the Christmas Season!