Christmas 2002 Special Edition

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Special Christmas Edition, 2002
Nancy and Bob Murdock, Editors - murmuse@erols.com

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
* CHRISTMASES REMEMBERED - Nancy Murdock

* A NAVY CHRISTMAS EVE - Bob Murdock

*A CHRISTMAS MEMORY - Ian Murdock

*EARLY CHRISTMAS MEMORIES - Meri Murdock

*MY MEMMYRORBLE CHRISTMAS - Darrel Murdock

*CHRISTMAS PRESENT - Margery Aukstikalnis

*NOT QUITE THE CHRISTMAS MOM PLANNED - Teddie Doane

*CHECK OUT CHRISTMAS - Christel M. Murdock

*CHRISTMAS BLESSINGS - Dawn Wylie Hiscock

*'TIS THE SEASON, UPSIDE DOWN - Charles & Orrel Frost

*OF BROKEN EARS AND A MENDED HEART - Priscilla Januskiewicz

THANKSGIVING CELEBRATIONS
*AN AMAZING THANKSGIVING - Missi Howlett

*A CHRISTMAS CACTUS & THANKSGIVING - Carol Howlett

*AN AWESOME THANKSGIVING - Lori Turner

*THANKSGIVING - Wendy Littlefield

*SPECIAL THANKS - Meri Murdock

*A TRULY WONDERFUL CELEBRATION - Nancy Murdock

*OVERHEARD ON THANKSGIVING - Bob Murdock

*

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
CHRISTMASES REMEMBERED
Nancy Murdock

As a young child, I saw Christmas as definitely tied firmly to gifts. We spent all year being good so we wouldn't be left out at Christmas. Each of us usually received a nice toy and a new article of clothing, with pennies, an orange, a small toy, and nuts in our stockings. This was the only morning in the year when the first one awake could wake up the whole family, no matter how early it was. A little later, the focus turned more toward giving to the other family members. We spent a lot of time saving our dimes and choosing the perfect gifts for each other.

In third grade our teacher told my classmate Kathleen and me to go to the auditorium to rehearse with the Christmas choir, which previously had consisted of only girls from grades 5 through 8. We were not well received by some of the older girls, who appeared to feel they had lost points by being in a choir with little kids. They said we wouldn't be able to learn all those songs. One mentioned that her mother (and Kathleen's!) wouldn't be able to make so many costumes. Miss Gleason, the elderly music teacher, was not impressed.

I loved singing the carols. We rehearsed several times a week for several weeks, so our Advent was truly a period of looking forward to the "Manger Scene" on the day of the school's "program" for the parents. In 8th grade I tried out for the narrator but didn't get it, but that didn't affect my being in the choir. I look back on those times as high points in my childhood, and I feel sad that this is no longer possible to do at school.

As an adult with children of my own, my favorite part of Christmas became that wonderful late night service, when the Christmas story became so real. After spending one Christmas with our families in our home town, we decided it was really a loss not to go to our own church for the service. When I began singing in the church choir, I found that I felt the wonder of the service even more, after rehearsing for several weeks. The special feeling that began in third grade has gained power with the years. Last year I had a respiratory infection that laid me low with laryngitis right before Christmas. I kept praying that I would be able to sing on Christmas Eve. And when the time came, and I could hit even the highest notes, I was about as happy as a person can ever be.

A NAVY CHRISTMAS EVE
Bob Murdock

In December 1944 I was stationed at a U.S. Navy electronics school at Navy Pier, Chicago. The Christmas celebration there was simple - they treated us to a nice feast of turkey and all the stuffings. That was it. No carol singing, no Christmas tree, no exchange of presents.

On this Christmas Eve 1,000 miles from home I was feeling sorry for myself, wishing I could be with the family. I decided to go for a little walk, so I could grumble without being heard. It was just a short distance to the waterfront of Lake Michigan, and I found a place to sit and look out over the dark water. Above the horizon toward the east a bright star captured my attention. As I gazed at it, in my mind it became the Star of Bethlehem, and I thought about the manger scene and the Wise Men and the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. I felt a strange rapport with the star, and stayed at the waterfront, transfixed, for several minutes.

The Star of Bethlehem is here to help and comfort me, I thought. Then I decided that perhaps the star could relay a message from me. I focused on it, and said, softly: "Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad." A warm glow seemed to envelop me. Then I turned and walked slowly back to the school. There would be no more grumbling.

A CHRISTMAS MEMORY
Ian Murdock

Growing up in suburban Minnesota in the late Sixties, an eight-year-old kid was not apt to become streetwise in any great hurry. While the cynical Internet-weaned children of today know pretty much everything that their parents know, the only 'adult' activity that my circle of third-grade innocents engaged in was looking up the word "penis" (since we didn't know any words for female parts) in the school dictionary, hoping for an illustration that we could titter at (but, alas, discovering only a penguin).

No wonder, then, with this Rockwellian backdrop, that I found myself in bed on Christmas Eve, holding my breath so as to catch the faint clatter of reindeer hooves as the great Santa Claus paused in his supersonic flight to bring presents down that little ventilation pipe on our roof. We had no chimney per se, but that had never stopped the big guy before. I knew because he always took a nibble and sip of the cookies and milk that we laid out for him. Besides, it would be another year before I recognized his handwriting on our gift tags as identical to Dad's.

At some point I fell into a fitful, holiday fudge-induced sleep, replete with visions of dancing sugar plums, whatever those are. I awoke suddenly, late in the night, with the feeling that something was amiss. Looking out my bedroom door at the utility room beyond, I found out what the trouble was: A strange bright light was on, revealing on the wall just outside my room the terrifying silhouette of a bearded elf - and he was pointing at me, as if to say: "He's seen us; get him!" I quickly performed the children's universal defensive maneuver, pulling my covers up over my head. After giving the commander elf and whoever he had been directing sufficient time to go away, I peeked out to find him still there, pointing at me again!

This time I was positive I was doomed, becuase I had seen them (sort of) not once, but twice! I knew that Santa went to great lengths to protect his secret identity; would he eliminate me to preserve it, or worse still, put me on the naughty list? Back under the safety of the covers, this time for the duration. My panic dimmed slowly as the oxygen under the blankets ran out.

The next thing I remember, all was right again. The strange light and the elves were gone, and I had not been abducted for my breach of their security and sold into elvery. Mother Nature was coaxing me out of bed, and as I sloshed past the spot where the bright light had come from, I noticed the shade off of the lamp that normally lit that room. Hmm.

In the morning, after opening all of my presents, including a few in my big red stocking from Saint Nick, I went back to investigate the area of the sighting. The shade was still off; someone must have needed more light, probably to fetch presents out of hiding, than the lamp normally afforded. I switched the light on, and a nearby pile of Mom's sewing material threw a familiar sinister, bearded shadow on the wall near my bedroom door. No Santa's elves had ever been after me at all! Flooded with relief, I shook my head and laughed at my own naivete. Why, they probably even stayed in the sleigh while Santa slid down the oven vent!

EARLY CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
Meri Murdock

For me, Christmas began in our living room. Mom played old-time Christmas music on our stereo and we all participated in trimming the tree. My absolute favorite ornaments were little fruit baskets and drum-sets. I was even allowed to help string cranberries and popcorn, something not too many people seem to do anymore. After all the ornaments were on the tree, it was time for the tinsel. I believe it was big-sister Valerie who showed me that tinsel looks better when you don't throw it on in clumps! It's also not supposed to be used to play with cats, she said.

We lived in Minnesota when I was little, so we almost always had a white Christmas. Our house was at the top of a small hill, with the school at the bottom. The hill was terrific for sleds and toboggans, so even when the school was closed for snow days, most kids were there. There was even a pond that froze over, so we got to skate. Brother Ian went through the ice, once, so I won't dwell on the pond! One of the best things about being in the snow is making snow angels and snowmen. I helped make a really neat one, but I was really sad when it didn't come alive like Frosty! Don't laugh, but I still cry when Frosty melts on TV.

Christmas Eve we got to open a present from out-of-town and then we put our stockings out in the living room. One time I tried to lie on the couch and wait for Santa, but Val told me that he doesn't come until everyone's asleep in their own beds. Stockings were always stuffed full of little toys and good things to eat, often with oranges in the toes. A few of the presents I remember best are a Tiny Tears doll, a big set of toy dishes, a Viewmaster, and a little inflatable Minnie Mouse chair.

Later Christmases took place in southern California, but we managed to keep the spirit without the cold weather. My fondest memories from early California years are the times we did a lot of crafty stuff – making ornaments out of things like felt and even Coke cans! Once I managed to make little drum-sets in memory of the first ones I adored. They were lopsided and very simple, but I was proud! Sometimes we went to the Midnight service on Christmas Eve, and that was very special. Somehow even the same old cookies and punch served in the parish hall tasted better after that service!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone from Charlie, Kayla, Magic and me.

p.s. Remember, Santa won't show up until everyone's asleep!

MY MEMMYRORBLE CHRISTMAS
Darrel Murdock

Back in the later 1980's was my most memorable Christmas. I had made some important new choices in the Fundamentals Department and the positive changes had begun to manifest in many wonderful ways. Not the least of the rewarding outcomes was improved interaction skills with the people in my sphere of existance.

Anywho, that year I was feeling great, sons Jason and Nicholas were lined up for a rare Christmas Eve and Morning visit (due to work and other schedule conflicts), and I was really getting ready for a Good Christmas!

I happened to relay that euphoric feeling to my Parents, and they jumped on the opportunity to accelerate the situation. At the last moment a large package came to the door jam packed with colorful packages! The tree never looked so good as we put on the "Silver Bells of Christmas" and sipped cocoa Christmas Eve. It was positively right out of a fairy tale, just the way I like it.

CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Margery Aukstikalnis

Christmas Pasts all seem to blend together and Christmas Futures are but a dream; but this year I celebrate as a new member of the Church Choir! Hours and hours we practice, and tunes float in our heads all week long to make this the best Christmas of them all.

Oh how I missed singing in church. And how fortunate I am to have returned in time to enjoy the true spirit of Christmas this year. Jack and I wish all of you JOY at Christmas!

NOT QUITE THE CHRISTMAS MOM PLANNED
Teddie Doane

Mom took a terrible fall on Monday, December 9. She was getting home from a Christmas party at Jane McCauley's house around 4:15 p.m. and tripped on a chunk of ice in her parking lot. She landed face first against a car (which is now dented!) and then went down hands first. She broke some of the dishes she had been carrying. That was of great concern to her!

Some lady came over to my house and told me Mom had fallen and needed me. I turned off the stove and hurried over and found her sitting on the freezing cold pavement surrounded by the broken dishes, her smashed eyeglasses, and a variety of crackers, cheese, and strawberries. (She was in charge of appetizers at the Hobby Club Christmas party!) There was already a police officer and two EMT's with her.

She was transported via ambulance to Heywood Hospital where she was treated and released. She has bruised ribs, a bruised shoulder, bruised face, broken right wrist, and a broken finger on each hand! The most painful part is the rib cage right now. It hurts her to cough, laugh, and even to breathe. We take turns caring for her and making meals, doing laundry, shopping, decorating, vacuuming, etc. She's already tired of not being able to do things!

So she asked me to notify her friends and relatives out there in "Museland" of the situation so they would understand why she's not able to send cards this year. She wishes everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

CHECK OUT CHRISTMAS
Christel M. Murdock

So, I spent two dollars getting this picture taken, thought I would share :) Ahh... to go back to my younger days..... Happy Holidays to all!
[Click here for Christie's picture]

CHRISTMAS BLESSINGS
Dawn Wylie Hiscock

You asked for special Christmas memories.

One of the years, before I met Tim, when I was working far from home in Wilkes-Barre, PA, I had a Christmas Eve flight scheduled with stops in Philadelphia and Chicago before I could reach the airport in Denver. It was snowing heavily. The wwings of the plane were de-iced more than once, but we made it to Philadelphia. Unfortunately, Chicago's airport runways were icy and too windy for safe flying. I was stuck in an unfamiliar city. My Dad suggested on the phone that I call my Uncle Tiny and Aunt Shugg.

I hadn't seen my Uncle and Aunt for more than ten years, and felt grateful, yet a little awkward at first as I imposed on their time and plans. Uncle Tiny, with a wry, yet friendly wit, helped me schlep my luggage to various airline's counters to reschedule after each cancelled flight, and then shuttle me back and forth from his home in west suburban Media. Later that evening, when, as dreaded, the airport was closed in Chicago for the evening, I returned to Media with my Uncle. The room Aunt Shugg had prepared was nice, and I slept well, but woke up Christmas morning with tears, missing my Mom and Dad, for this was the first Christmas I'd spent away from them, and it had been many months since we'd been together.

"What a blessing to have such a caring Uncle. Why the tears?", I scolded myself. I went downstairs to enjoy their beautiful tree, and the breakfast feast Aunt Shugg had prepared. She was singing and humming Christmas carols, full-voiced vibrato and all :) While I slept, she had searched thoughout the house for extra bottles of lotion, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, office supplies, and candy, wrapping them all and stuffing them in a stocking just for me. I was humbled, overwhelmed, more grateful, and feeling beloved than I thought imaginable.

One of my cousins and his significant other, who'd been together for five years, were there, too. The last gift under the tree was from him to Aunt Shugg and Uncle Tiny. Aunt Shugg unwrapped it, expecting perhaps a homemade ornament, given each year by Scott and Joanie. She lifted up a knotted bundle of three pieces of wide red yarn, and exclaimed, "Oh look! For the tree?" Uncle Tiny grinned, and quietly said, No, Shugg. They're going to tie the knot."

Though I missed my immediate family Christmas Day, I will never forget, and always cherish the memories from that surprising, grace-filled Christmas.

I hope your Christmas is seasoned with many wonderful surprises, and grace-filled blessings.

'TIS THE SEASON, UPSIDE DOWN
Charles & Orrel Frost

"Dreaming of a White Christmas"? "Frosty the Snowman"? "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer"? Sorry, mate, not in OZ. Now that's pronounced like the word "awes" and refers to our big island continent in the Antipodes. The seasons are reversed, you know, so when you are having a snowy Christmas, we are basking in the summer sun.

No need for a fancy Christmas dinner; we just put more lamb chops and sausages on the bar-bie. College students haunting the libraries to finish their term papers? Not on your life. They're down at the beach surfing. The school year here is well and truly finished in early December, and the next one won't start until late February.

The only thing wrong with Christmas down this way is the suspense. Those presents you send so early from America to make sure they get here on time usually arrive well before the date. The packages are so well wrapped that shaking and rattling doesn't tell us much. Not to wuh-ree, Christmas will always be a fair dinkum thing for us down under. My word, we can enjoy any holiday. We work hard at leisure!

--A couple of Mainers dreaming of some Christmases long ago

OF BROKEN EARS AND A MENDED HEART
Priscilla Januskiewicz

We don't get out very many decorations for Christmas nowadays. For years we got down on our hands and knees, crawled through the little doorway to the closet under the eaves, and dragged out box after box of treasured ornaments, handmade pinecone wreaths, German nutcrackers, wooden music boxes and many other old favorites. But the older we get, the harder it is to do it all, and the less we want to do, so in 2002 we are keeping it simple. A few old things will be brought out, but something new will be added this year---something natural, handmade, and very special.

We have a few nativity sets that we've collected through the years, and each is beautiful in it's own way. One is a tiny, one-piece plastic manger scene that is great for a very small space. A couple of extra trees rounds it out nicely. Another is a three-piece set of flat, wooden figures that looks attractive on top of our bookcase. I usually add a lamb or two and an angel I made out of corn husks and milkweed pods. We have another set with a small stable and several three-dimensional figures carved out of olive wood, I believe. And when Roy was in Germany on a two-week European tour with the National Guard several years ago, he ordered, through a military exchange, a beautiful Hummel set complete with all the figures and a wooden stable. A few months later, the large box arrived from overseas. Everything was rolled in padded paper and packed in straw-like material which comes in handy for the stable. I carefully unwrapped each piece, and surprisingly, nothing was broken. I like to set it up on the antique round table in the living room, and it takes up the whole table. A small light bulb propped up behind it shines through the square hole in the back of the stable, giving the cherub-like faces around the manger a soft glow at night.

But this year we will have a new nativity set; something different from all the others. While melting some of our beeswax recently for candlemaking (Roy's a beekeeper, as you know), I remembered the nativity molds I had bought about three or four years ago, and decided it was time to use them. As the light, lemon-colored wax was melting, the sweet scent of honey wafted through the house and filled the air. Roy had already strained the wax once, but I needed to strain it again. When the wax was hot enough, I carefully dipped it out of the pot, poured it through the pantyhose-topped funnel and filled the prepared molds. After leaving them overnight, Roy helped me remove the wax. It takes four hands to get the figures out---two strong ones to hold the heavy rubber molds open, and two more to try to get the wax out without damaging it. After three pourings, we finally got Joseph out without breaking his head off. Most of the other figures came out fairly easily. The wise men, shepherd, donkey, Mary and the Baby are beautifully detailed and fragrant. The cow's ears break every time, though, so we have a cow with two horns and no ears. The lamb has one and a half ears. They cannot be mended. They're a little weird, but, as in life and with all things handmade, nothing is perfect. I am not perfect. But the cow and the lamb will be lovingly placed next to the figure of the Holy One in the manger. So, too, I can come to Jesus, with all of my flaws, and He will love me and accept me just the way I am. And that is what I will think about this Christmas, as I look upon my imperfect nativity set: the wonderful, glorious, fragrant love of Christ, who came to earth, suffered and died for me so that I might live with Him eternally. This is the promise of Christmas, and the hope for my imperfect heart.

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