Category Archives: Seasons

My Olive Wood Nativity

Leave a reply

I had the marvelous and blessed opportunity to Jerusalem at the end of my first year at college (2000). The only thing I really really wanted for myself as a “souvenir” was an olive wood nativity. Supposedly, this was hand carved; the more I look at it, each year, the more I suspect it’s more of the generic variety. There are flaws in it and in some respects it’s rather cheaply made.  (I also didn’t know much about bargaining and so forth, so I can’t say it was cheap to buy). I was young and naive. If I had to choose again, I’d probably select a different, more “polished” model.

But those facts are irrelevant when I unpack this each year. I am reminded of my time in Jerusalem: the spirit I felt, the testimony I grew. I knew Heavenly Father answered my prayers. I knew He loved me. And every Christmas as I unpack this nativity set, I remember signing Christmas carols on the front lawn of the Jerusalem Center, as we talked of Shepherd’s Field. I am reminded of what Christmas truly means: our Savior was born! He Lived! And then He sacrificed His precious life and took it up again for each of us. Because of that, there is hope for each of us to return to Heavenly Father. That is truly the meaning of Christmas.

This olive wood set was the only nativity set I took with me to Australia, so it was our main means of celebration last year. I’m glad we had it. This year, it’s on the mantle over the fireplace.

crw_8038lr-jerusalem-nativity-300x91[1]

My Olive Wood Nativity

My First Nativity Scene

Leave a reply

I don’t know where I got this, but it was my first and only nativity scene when I was in high school. It was mine, in my room. I took it to college and it sat in a corner of my dorm room. Now, when I unpack it with my Christmas decorations, it reminds me of the joy of simplicity: while it’s cheap, it’s a Christmas reminder of the humility of Christ’s stable. This year it’s sitting on my desk.

When I take it out next year and the next, I’ll remember that a 14-month-old should never be left within reach of anything even remotely sentimental (he threw this down the stairs within 3 minutes). It is breakable. Surprise!

Thank goodness for elmer’s glue.

crw_8037lr-first-nativity-246x300[1]

Why We Teach Our Children of Santa Claus

4 Replies

“Oh, and you must not forget the Kris Kringle. The child must believe in him until she reaches the age of six.”

“Mother, I know there are no ghosts or fairies. I would be teaching my child foolish lies.”

Mary spoke sharply. “You do not know whether there are not ghosts on earth or angels in heaven.”

“I know there is no Santa Claus.”

“Yet you must teach the child that these things are so.”

“Why? When I, myself, do not believe?”

“Because,” explained Mary Rommely simply, “the child must have a valuable thing which is called imagination. The child must have a secret world in which things live that never were. It is necessary that she believe. She must start out by believing in things not of this world. Then when the world becomes too ugly for living in, the child can reach back and live in her imagination. …”

“The child will grow up and find out things for herself. She will know that I lied. She will be disappointed.”

“That is what is called learning the truth. It is a good thing to learn the truth one’s self. To first believe with all your heart, and then not to believe, is good too. It fattens the emotions and makes them stretch. When as a woman life and people disappoint her, she will have had practice in disappointment and it will not come so hard. …”

The night that Francie Nolan was born; conversation between her mother and grandmother. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith, page 84-85.

Paul’s Second Halloween

Leave a reply

This Halloween, Paul wore his new pajamas. He was a Dino Pal while he slept! Here he is, happy in the morning as usual (he must be related to his father…). I tried to tell him about the dinosaurs. But I don’t know much, so I made some things up. If we go with dinosaurs again, Mommy will study!

100_3332-300x224[1]

What I Will Miss

4 Replies

One sunny 50-degree winter day last July, I walked to the supermarket. I was 7 months pregnant and brand-new to the country. Outside of the supermarket fly six Australian flags. As I walked by the first of the flags, the flags flapped in a light breeze. I looked up to see a beautiful, blue-sky backdrop for the Australian flag. I decided then that I was home, and I loved it.

Today I walked up to the supermarket again, as I have many times in the past months. It is now fall, and I crunched leaves as I walked down the street, pushing my almost eight-month-old in the stroller. As I walked under the flags, I felt a sense of sadness: I’m leaving.

What I will miss: Being 10 minutes from the temple.

The temple is open for about four sessions a day Wednesday through Saturday, and it is such a lovely, friendly temple. Saturday morning at 9:25, I decided to go to a session. I made the 10 a.m. session (I don’t like to rush to get ready; it just worked out well this week). I will miss being so close.

What I will miss: Being a short drive from mountains and empty fields and little traffic.

Sunday afternoon we went for a drive. We didn’t go anywhere in particular: we just drove. Because we live where we do, we could drive for 10 minutes and be away from traffic, among fields with cattle grazing. It is so lovely here. I will miss the scenery of Australia.

What I will miss: My husband walking to and from the train station every day.

My husband comes home every night. When we return to the USA, he’ll go back to flying to his work Monday and returning home Thursday. We’re obviously looking at other options; I’ve been spoiled by his presence this year. I will really miss being so close to a train line, with his job on the end of it.

Sigh. Still no departure date, but it is certainly going to happen.

Procrastination

8 Replies
  • “Let’s go to lunch next week instead of this week.” I say to my friend. “Or we could go the week after that if it’s better.”
  • Why don’t we invite our visiting teaching sisters for lunch next month? This month is so busy.”
  • “Oh, I’ll read that book later,” I tell myself. “I can always renew it.”
  • “I’ll do a major pantry clean out next month,” I tell myself.
  • “We’ll go to the temple next Saturday.”
  • “I’ll take my Sunday School class members treats next week.”
  • “We can always see New Zealand on the next family vacation. Let’s just take a short trip this time.”
  • “No, we’ll go see Tasmania next month. Let’s stay home this weekend.”

And then we get a call: We want you to come to a new assignment in three weeks. In New Jersey. Nothing for certain yet, but will you plan for it?

Obviously, three weeks is impossible for an international move. But all of a sudden, the next weeks are limited; the next months are gone.

Last June, we entered Australia on a three-year visa. The project’s paperwork said through “September 2008,” but we hoped for two full years. I figured I’d have a walking and talking little boy. I figured we’d have visited all of Victoria and parts of Tasmania and New Zealand and maybe Sydney and the Gold Coast and maybe Ayers Rock. I figured our savings account would have grown (although those two dreams don’t really follow, a girl can dream!). I figured the housing market wasn’t going to tank and that the dollar would be worth a little more when we transferred our money back. I figured I had more time before I had to move my home across the globe again. I figured I could enjoy being cozy in our new home.

Of course, I am excited to be near family again, within a four-hour flight of both sets of my baby’s grandparents and all of my baby’s aunts and uncles. I’m excited to be able to get more variety in terms of consumer goods. I’m excited that things will cost less (relatively). I’m excited to choose a new car for myself. I’m excited to re-enter summer. I’m excited I might be able to go to my friend’s wedding in August. I’m excited that my family might actually call me when my phone number isn’t international. I’m excited that I don’t have to wonder how long we’ll be here (things have been a question mark for a few months).

But now I realize I have to start all over again: the third home and the third ward and the third search for friends in two years of marriage.

I’m realizing now that I shouldn’t have procrastinated being a friend. I shouldn’t have procrastinated making home cozy for my family. The end can, and does, come at any time.

What are you procrastinating? What “end” do you dread (and/or hope for at the same time)?

May Day Mayday

7 Replies

May Day, definition: May 1 celebrated as a springtime festival

I am feeling kind of down these days. Everyone is writing on their blogs about the beautiful flowers they are enjoying, about the lovely weather they are hoping for, about SPRING. My days are getting progressively colder and the leaves are mostly finished changing colors and dropping. I was having a hard time getting out the house before it got cold: now I can see I’m just going to spend the next few months indoors. It takes twice as long to get Paul ready to go out because I have to bundle him up. I think we’ll stay indoors.

This morning, I realized it was May Day. I have always had a special place in my heart for May Day. One year, when I was a depressed, lonely, loner teenager, a friend of mine left me a bouquet of roses on May Day. “Happy May Day!” the note said. She left them anonymously, but I knew who it was. I haven’t talked to her for years, but I’ll always remember the service she did for me back on that spring day when I felt so awkward and alone. It was a reminder that in the “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer” (Camus); I just needed to stop thinking about myself and serve, as she did.

It’s just so sad that this year’s May Day is rainy, overcast, cold, and only getting colder. I must remember that summer will eventually come again.

I miss spring! (I guess it serves me right for bragging about good produce in November!)

Mayday, definition: an international radio-telephone signal word used as a distress call

I’m trying to find my ancestors. I researched James and Margaret and found their supposed marriage date in an index of marriages. The UK likes to horde the originals and won’t let anyone (even LDS volunteers) digitize or scan them for microfilm. So, for £13 I ordered the marriage certificate. (Yes, Mom, I know you claim Grandma already had one, but when I visited, we searched her apartment and couldn’t find it.)

For some reason, I thought that the marriage certificate would tell me everything. I guess I imagined a large packet or box delivered to my door with birth information and parental details, complete with an explanation of the mystery of where, when, and why Margaret disappeared fifteen years later.

Here’s what I got: a barely legible official copy of the certificate on file in a slim, small, half-sheet-of-paper-sized envelope.

The certificate tells me their names and professions, their ages, etc. Most of the information we already knew.

But here are my questions:

  • If I didn’t know which James Simon/Simons/Simmons was my ancestor, how could I be sure this was their marriage certificate?
  • How can I figure out where they were born? Tradition holds James Simmons as Irish, but we don’t know where he came from or when he came to England.
  • How do I find where, when, and to whom James Delany/Simons was born? Because he was aged four at the 1871 census, he couldn’t possibly have been born to James and Margaret unless he was born out of wedlock.
  • Could James Delany/Simmons have been born out of wedlock in the 1860s? Wouldn’t that have been pretty scandalous for this Catholic family? Can I assume he was born to people who were married?

I am completely lost as to where to begin. I’ll head to the Family History Library next Wednesday when it’s open, but my experience is the librarians there are as clueless as I am.

PLEASE HELP if you have any experience with family history!

Note: Any Benac family members who’d like to save £13 can view and download a high-res jpg of this image here for your own family history files.

Road Warrior

Leave a reply

Paul was a great sport on our super-short road trip this weekend. We drove for about six hours along the Great Ocean Road on Friday. Unfortunately, Paul couldn’t see the beautiful scenery as we drove. I think he was wondering why we didn’t let him out of his carseat! We only took two breaks as we drove. Friday night and Saturday morning we spent some time seeing the beautiful rock cliffs off the coast of Southern Victoria. Paul didn’t seem too impressed out in the wind and autumn breeze. But Mommy kept him warm!

100_2846[1]

Saturday we drove (the non-scenic) four hours home. It was a very nice short jaunt to see our country. Paul won’t remember any of it, but he sure was a great sport.

My First Easter by Paul

Leave a reply

I didn’t wake up for my breakfast until 5 a.m. I didn’t know what time it was, of course, but Mommy seemed so happy when she came up. She kept saying, “I just slept for six hours straight!” with amazement. I ate eagerly and then decided to go back to sleep.

Before I knew it, Mommy was waking me up and putting my white shirt on me. Then Mommy immediately put me in my car seat. There wasn’t time to spit up on anyone at all! Daddy carried me out to the car and put me in the back. I sat in the car seat for more than an hour as Daddy drove us around. Mommy came and sat by me for a while and so did this other guy we picked up. I was sleepy so I didn’t feel like talking much. I just stared at the side of the car seat.

Finally, we got to church. I wasn’t sleepy anymore. Mommy took me out of my car seat and held me on her lap. There were so many people to look at. People kept coming by and telling me I am cute. Do such obvious things even need to be said? I just giggled and ate my tie.

I sat on Mommy’s lap as she sang songs. I was pretty happy to be awake. The whole meeting was about Jesus. As Daddy passed the sacrament, Mommy told me about how Jesus was resurrected. I was happy.

I went with Daddy to the Gospel Essentials Sunday school class and took a little nap. Most of the lesson was in Chinese anyway, so I didn’t feel too bad sleeping through it. I’m having a hard enough time with English these days!

When I woke up, I was in Relief Society with Mommy. A lady at the front of the room was talking, and I wanted to show everyone how I can talk too, so I started speaking up! Did you know I can make really loud noises with this voice of mine? Really loud noises! One lady sitting in front of me kept telling me I was cute, but Mommy was trying to shush me. She walked around the back of the room, but I was so excited about my noises that I wanted to see how loud I could get. Besides, I was tired of being held. I wanted to kick.

Finally, Mommy stopped shushing me. And then everyone else was moving around and talking, so no one could hear my noises. How disappointing!

Before I knew it, Mommy was putting me back in my car seat. At least Mommy sat by me again. So did one of the other guys we had picked up, Shawn. He kept making faces at me, trying to get me to smile, but I didn’t feel like humoring him. I decided to make loud noises again. I was getting tired, though, so I wasn’t very energetic.

I think I feel asleep because the next thing I remember, I was in my crib at home. I didn’t want to be all by myself, so I called for Mommy and Daddy.

Daddy played with me for a little while and tickled me. I love my Daddy! He rubbed something dark brown on my bottom lip, and Mommy was quite concerned. She kept saying, “Don’t give him chocolate!”

Grandma Peggy called to wish me a happy Easter. I was so amazed by the voice coming out of the telephone that I didn’t say anything to her.

Mommy and Daddy found me some toys and put me in my playpen. I ate my cloth book and hit myself in the head with my rattle while Mommy ironed a tablecloth and Daddy made pear sorbet.

After a little while, Daddy was putting me back in to my car seat. “Where to now?” I thought. We headed all the way back to Shawn’s house and then back to the church. I did not want to be in my car seat any longer, and I tried to tell Daddy, who kept driving. But Shawn and Mommy just told me I was cute. Shawn told me that it was his first Easter too.

After another long while, we were back at church. Mommy read to me from the Book of Mormon Stories book. I sat with Mommy and Daddy as we listened to pretty music. After listening to some talks in Chinese, we went and watched Shawn baptize William. Mommy told me that I’ll be baptized in 7 years, 6 months, and 15 days. I’m so excited!

After we watched the baptism, we drove home again. Shawn came with us, and so did a sister in the ward and her kids. I lay on my back in my playpen looking up, and there were so many smiling faces—two girl faces and a little boy face and Shawn’s face. I didn’t know who to smile at first! The two girls were very excited to smile at me and giggle and tickle me. I was happy to humor them. The oldest girl picked me up and carried me around the room.

The youngest kid, the boy, wasn’t quite sure how to hold me, but he sat down and he did just fine. Then he and Shawn played football in the living room with a stuffed bunny. I can’t wait until I’m a little older and I can run around like that!

I was so excited with all the people around that I didn’t realize how tired I was getting. When they all put me down in my playpen and sat at the table and started eating, I was very annoyed.

“I’m still here!” I tried to say. But, of course, all they heard was my noises. “Isn’t he cute?” they said to each other.

Finally, Mommy remembered me. She picked me up and took me upstairs. She changed my clothes and sang me a song and cuddled me. I was too tired to go to sleep calmly, but she helped me go to sleep anyway.

It was a good first Easter.