A long time ago, Chris and I decided not to put any Christmas presents under our tree until the kids were asleep in bed on Christmas eve. Why? Not because we were trying to keep the story of Santa alive, or because we wanted to keep the number of presents a secret till Christmas morning, but because we’ve always had little children who liked to unwrap gifts.
Imagine what would happen if some of the Littles were left alone in our front room with stacks of presents staring them in the face. To say they would be tempted is an understatement. If we wanted to keep our gifts wrapped and looking nice then it would have to wait till the kids got a little older. Until now...
For the past two weeks, all our family’s gifts have been leaning in a giant tower of boxes in my room, and today, I got the urge. I guess it’s similar to that pregnancy nesting urge, and it just took over.
When all was said and done and the dust cleared, surrounded by spent tape dispensers and empty cardboard wrapping tubes, I had wrapped over 120 presents. My back ached and my fingers were rubbed bare, but I was done. It was finished...
Until Parker called and off I went to pick him up from basketball practice. I only made it a few blocks before I ran out of gas-- literally. Chris had warned me that it was low... what else is new? The guy has the car running on fumes most of the time... I called him up as I waddled home crying. He would’ve rescued me, but I had sent him to the vet with five of the kids and a new puppy.
On his way back, I had him stop at Walmart to pick-up two family pictures that were ready for the grandmas. He was supposed to walk in and walk out. He spent an hour with those five kids and a puppy waiting in Walmart while the photo lady worked out the kinks in the printer. If I factor that into the equation, then I guess walking home a few blocks wasn’t that bad.
I won’t mention that with all the glitches, my favorite baby back ribs got burnt or that when Tallulah and River got out of the shower tonight there was not one diaper in the house for them. Not one.
Good thing I’ve been reading “Keep a Quiet Heart” by Elisabeth Elliot which says the following: “The secret is Christ in me. Not me in a different set of circumstances.”
And I’m only on the first chapter.