Laho Christmas Traditions

Thought I would share some Laho Christmas-time...

Caleb and I begin to decorate the annual  Laho Gingerbread House. Where are the two family members good at geometry? No where to be found. Note all the small confused pieces.

 

We concur to sneak a peek at our McCartney Friends Gingerbread House. After all they were the ones so kind to curse gift us with this project so we could make family memories. Did I mention there are only two of us (dimensionally, geometrically, weak) working on a gingerbread house that has no directions. So glad Devaree posted her house on FB!

 

After some cheating diligence and a lot of crying patience, the tradition was complete! Note to future builders- do not eat glue frosting or corrugated cardboard gingerbread house.

 

Alisha sporting antlers for the annual Cooke Musical. Oh, and wearing my sweater that when Hannah saw said, "Wow Alisha! Is it ugly sweater day at school?" Nice!

 

Our decorations went up. Inviting isn't it? I really should have superimposed caught Santa on film!

 

Courtesy of Aunt Linda we camped out in our family room to watch Polar Express and eat popcorn. Watching a Christmas movie is definitely a Laho tradition. Now it looks like planting a tent in the family room is too. Hey, I will take this set up any day over the real deal. And Jeff's fire-building talents can be enjoyed anywhere! Should I mention this was Caleb's first viewing of Polar Express? Sometimes you fall behind with your fourth child. Don't judge me!

 

Of course the annual photo- in -front- of- the -tree tradition! Surprised it only took one! I didn't capture all the Laho traditions on film, i.e. the hot chocolate-spilling-ride through the Wayne County Lightfest, seeing Santa or just talking about him, parties, Advent wreaths, baking, hand-made gifts, Jeff & Stacey shop til Jeff drops , going door-to door singing Christmas carols (this one is only in my dreams)...

 

Not sure if I'm ready for a New Year. Sometimes I like to stay where I'm at. I know that's why I like tradition. I get to go to what I know. A new year? Risky. But tonight I will be snuggled in with the best of friends, an army of teenagers, and two small boys to invite in the New Year. I can't think of a better way to welcome some risk in the coming year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grief Thoughts

A friend of mine once rode on an airplane with famous journalist Mitch Albom. She asked him what advice he had for someone pursuing writing. His response? Simple, "Write about what you know."

Yesterday twenty-six people were murdered in a Connecticut Elementary School. Another senseless mass murder dropped at the doorstep of our hearts. I do not know the devastation of losing a loved one in a shooting. I do not know the personal struggle of mental illness or have a family member who suffers in such a way. But I do know loss and I do know death upfront and very personally.

My arms have been wrapped around my dead son's body and my lips have known the words leaving my mouth to tell a little sister, "Your brother has died and will not be coming home." I know the day our family was robbed of our young boy, the day we came home from the hospital without our child. I know the next day too when you wake up and the realization continues to hover over you that your son is dead. The day after and the day after that is the same. Your mind hears the words, sees the death, but your heart refuses to release its grip on the love of your life, the dreams you had.

You settle into shock because it is safer and easier to breath. And then the world goes on. But you are constantly barraged with reminders that your life will not go on as it did. The young sibling will not let you forget the truth. She bounces on her bed singing, "My brother is dead, my brother is dead." only to disappear into a closet sobbing that her brother is dead.

It is easier to look for the silver lining rather than allow the searing pain to enter our hearts and interrupt our lives. But it will enter and it will be ugly.

In a world of drive-thru everything we must not rush through the process of grieving the lost lives and seeking the face of God in the crucible of the horrific truth. There are no words to be flung out as if there was some fast way to heal the devastation. There are no answers to instantly be found to give us understanding.

There is a way to allow healing to begin though for the griever. If you want to be a friend to a griever...

Sit in silence.
Remember.
Cry.
Hold hands.
Pray.
Cry.
Write.
Remember.
Speak seldom.

Lastly, let the opportunity to go deeper into a broken heart not slip away and let God do the rest because He too had a child die.