The Power of Words

"...For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."

-Matthew 12:34

"Talk Less. Ask More."
-Alfie Kohn

 

 

Soaring thousands of feet above the deep, blue Pacific was when it happened. Of all places, of all times. Through the wooshing of forced air and the hum of hushed conversations and muffled coughs, we heard it. 10 month old Landon tipped his chin to the low ceiling of the 737 bound for Hawaii, pointed a teeny finger, and exclaimed, "i-ight!."

"Did you hear that?!" I exclaimed.

"He just said light!" My mom confirmed from the next seat over.

With all eyes on him, Landon beamed and (after witnessing the circus of Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa all over-enthusiastically pointing like monkies at their own over-head lights and chirping "Light!" "Light" "Light" over and over) he offered an encore.

"I-ight," he croaked matter-of-factly. And we all swooned.

Landon spoke his first word.
It was as if we could see a whole new world opening up to him; like a treasure map uncurling it's canvas secrets.
Maybe our elation stemmed from the fact that this was a first for Landon. First smile, first steps, first word. It seemed logical.  But there was something more. Something of deeper value in our reaction; something that hinted at the promise of a growing, morphing, changing, and richer connection with Landon through the vehicle of language.
A whole new world indeed.
Now, at 19 months, Landon lives for his words. Stretching in a drowsy, lazy-morning fuzz, Landon begins his day talking. Even before those precious eyes can blink the sleep from them, the words spill out.
"Oh light! The pillow. Blanket! Sunshine!" Landon sings as he names everything in his itty-bitty world.
The joy of watching our son discover his voice was quickly matched with the sobering realization that he would repeat anything, yes anything, that we said while he was within earshot.
Landon, like all healthy kids, seems to have an innate gift for honing in on those special words that, to Mom and Dad (Mom more specifically in this case) seem innacuous enough to slip into an adult conversation for emphasis. Words that, while little ones scamper about 'playing independently', you assume they would never think to listen to, much less repeat. But those little ears, oh those little ears...they don't miss a thing.
"Ccccc-r-aaaa-pp!" Landon trumpeted proudly, after said adult conversation above.
Our heads whipped to quick attention, our mouths dropped open, and Landon smiled from ear to ear.
"Cccc-r-aaa-p!" "Ccc-r-aaa-p" "Ccc--r-aaa-pp" He annunciated as he marched around the lawn. Over and over and over.
And we just about died.
Lesson learned.
As comical (at least in hindsight) that the situation was, it was a humbling learning moment for us as parents. The obvious conclusion to be much more careful of what we said around Landon didn't seem to be all we were meant to learn. This only scratched the surface. Embedded deeper was more of a feeling, a hearfelt longing to make sure we are concious of the attitudes that drive how we use words spoken both around and to Landon.
You see, even though we are taught the contrary, words can be weapons. Especially in these tender, formative years. They can wound little hearts that look to us as the center of their world. They can deflate the spirit of wonder in a child simply by a snide comment or an impatient demand.
But, we realized, it's simply not enough to say the 'right' things.
Children are geniune and honest, down to their core. A nicety spoken out of obligation or a word of encouragement uttered in frustration just doesn't feel right. Even mounds of compliments from the most well-intentioned parent can feel a little hollow somehow.
Perhaps it stems from the fact that there is so much that is unsaid behind what we actually say.
I've been so guilty of presenting this false front of words before. It's happened in times that I've worried about what strangers in the grocery store might think of me as a parent, times when I've told a white-lie to Landon (sorry, the cookies are all gone) because it was easier for me, times when I've wanted to manipulate Landon's behavior so I've showered him with candy-coated 'positive reinforcement' rather than stating a simple, loving limit or allowing him to experience and internalize the joy of a task .
Me. Me. Me.
The problem is, parenting....good parenting....isn't about me.
And this conflict of interests between my words and my intentions; when I opt to say what's most convenient for me rather than set a good example...it's reflected in my son's face.
It's as if children, especially young children, live on a different wavelength where the words that are spoken to them are interpreted only second to the energy that they receive.
That unsaid 'stuff'...it's their primary language.
Innocent matter-of-fact honesty and pure, un-tamed wonder are the very fabric that children weave their words through.
And it's refeshing...so very refreshing.

To be a great parent is more a function of listening than of explaining.
-Alfie Kohn

  As Landon's world continues to bloom and grow with language, we hope to be ever aware of the power our words and attitudes carry. We hope our words will carry encouragement, validation, and a spirit of understanding and love. Mostly, though, we hope to simply listen. And when letting go of focusing on the me of parenting, we hope to not only listen, but to learn in the process.

 

 



The Tomato Plant Lesson

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

-Galatians 5:22



"Do you know how long it takes to grow a tomato plant?" Mike asked with a little chuckle and a large does of patience.
The afternoon sun danced over the fenceline, casting a warm light over Mike's freshly planted garden. A gentle breeze carried the scent of dewy grass and sweet cottonwoods. Above the springtime song of Robbins and Swallows could be heard the exuberant shriek of our 13 month old son as he toddled barefoot through the grass. I smiled as I watched Landon stagger and stumble, sheer joy bursting forth from his every move.
"No," I answered Mike, "I really hadn't thought of it before."
I replayed the scenario in my head that had unfolded five minutes earlier, wishing I had caught it on video.
I could see it so clearly. Mike standing at the fenceline, holding the big plastic watering can over his beautiful potted vegetables, green stalks reaching toward the sunlight. And there was Landon, buzzing back and forth behind Mike's heals, drinking in his daddy's every move. With one clumsy step forward, Landon extended his chubby fingers to pluck the flimsy plant tag out of the dirt (his favorite pastime while in the wilds of the backyard) and....it....happened. Our darling son pirouted to the right....stepped on his own toes....then....PLOP...SNAP...whooops:) In one swift movement, Landon broke his fall directly on the tomato plant. As he regained his footing and zipped off to investigate the next garden delicacy, we got a glimpse of the aftermath. The vibrant green stalk had been severed and completely snapped in half; hanging by a thread like a loose tooth.
"How can you be mad at him, " Mike half-chuckled, half-groaned, "Look how happy he is, he's just totally oblvious."
Steeling a glance at eachother, then at Landon (now hovering like King Kong above the pepper plants) we both broke into a laugh.
Of course we couldn't be mad at him.
He's 13 months old.
He's growing, investigating, interacting, exploring, and making mistakes....PLENTY of mistakes.
But isn't that how we learn?
The whole situation got us thinking.
Is there ever an age that we are justified in being 'mad' at Landon for a mistake (like the tomato plant incident) or any mistake for that matter?
I hadn't taken the time to truly reflect on that before. That one question spurred a cluster of others to sprout into my head.
Wasn't that the perscribed role of a parent? At least a responsible parent? We need to punish our children so that they learn from those mistakes....right? Especially if the crimes are messy, inconvenient, or God forbid....done in defiance.  Then, our anger is justified.

This is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.
I don't want to do this, but you've left me no choice.
That's it, this is the LAST warning!
You've really done it this time.

I cringed.
Deep down in my heart, I knew this didn't feel right....would never feel right.
This punitive 'justified' anger, cleverly disguised as a parental 'duty', was really an ugly lack of self-control; of impatience masquerading as rightousness.
I say this from a point of humility, because I am far from innocent.
I look back at my days in the classroom and I am swept up into a sheepish flury of scenes flashing before my eyes, hasty words echoing in my head. It seemed there were times when those select few tough, hurting students of mine would do anything to push my bottons, misbehave so outrageously that my daily plans were completely thrown out the window.
And boy was I frustrated! Regretfully, I probably let it show. I undoubtedly dealt with some situations in ways I wish I could have done differently.
But, you see, that's the beauty of mistakes.
We can learn from them.
I want to do things differently with Landon.
I WILL do things differently with Landon.
I can start today by not accepting the myth that children need to be 'put in their place'.
I can start today by not valuing blind obedience over relationship with my child.
I can start today by being a loving, patient authority figure who sets limits with empathy.
Above all, I can start today by dealing with my anger before I lose control and by respecting the power that my words and actions have over my child.

“I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element (in my classroom or in my home). It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess a tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.”

Anger does not belong in parenting. I look into the backyard and smile at that crooked tomato plant, thankful for the lesson it has imprinted on my heart. In it's tattered clay pot, the once ravaged stalk is now sprouting new growth and ready to bear fruit (or vegetable for that matter) despite it's ordeal. Just as our children are constantly learning and growing, so are we as parents. Like the tomato plant, there will be times in our parenting when we are broken and barely hanging on by a thread; our patience tried and our mistakes plentiful. But, like the tomato plant we have a tremendous capability for resilience; an unending invitation to mend our own brokeness (or lean on our faith to do so). It is then that we can step up to a higher standard; a standard not defined by perfection or guilt but cloaked in grace and abounding with love.

Confessions of a Change-of-Heart Mama

I think too much.
I'll start out there. Years from now, when Landon is reading this, he'll probably understand this about his often over-analytical mama. And maybe he'll be the same way...after all, it could be in the genes. Or perhaps it's simply a 'mama thing'. Either way, sometimes these thoughts/passions/feelings/words swim around in my head and keep me up at night. With eyes trained toward the cealing, it is in the soft, hushed, buzzing darkness that I can't quite figure out if it's my head or heart keeping me up; they are too closely tied. I wonder and worry, think and pray...all about that which I am most passionate about; parenting my sweet little boy. I'm sure that I'm not alone in this. Parenthood (even this far) has been the most suprising journey. If you would have asked me what I pictured my life to be like with a 13 month  old BEFORE having kids, I would have painted a portrait far different than the gloriously messy, hilariously chaotic, deeply love-filled and soul-warming reality that is my life today with Landon. Let's start at the beginning.
With swollen belly and anxious heart, my nine-month-pregnant self tidied up Landon's nursery. I carefully aranged extra bottles, pacifiers, swaddle blankets, bouncy seats, vibrating swings, expensive and pretty bedding, bassinettes, changing tables, cribs...you name it, we had it! This kid had more 'gear' than space in our house. And I CARED about the gear, boy did I ever. I had visions of how cute my little bundle would be lying peacefully in his designer bassinette. I daydreamed about how Landon would coo and smile at me from one of his plastic baby-holding contraptions as I whistled and cleaned my tidy house.
It seems so shallow now...this neat, shrink-wrapped idea of what I thought motherhood with an infant to be. Perhaps this is just a normal step in the metamorphasis one undertakes when becoming a parent. I imagine God chuckling at parents like me...seeing our eyes widen in amazement when suddenly....REALITY hits!
Landon arrived....
He was perfect and beautiful and the very embodiment of LOVE....
BUT....
He did not ONCE sleep peacefully in his designer bassinnette, most of the plastic contraptions irritated him, and the bottles....HA! Landon had other plans.
He yearned for nearness, for warmth, for cuddles, for smiles, for the sound of mom's heartbeat. He NEEDED relationship, he had NO need for all of the gear. :)
And so began my first lesson.
I read recently a notion that children are like little 'holy' teachers, imparting on us wisdom that reflects God's heart and what is truly important in life....if we only take the time to 'listen'. What an idea! The most humble, powerless, and innocent of all, teaching...not by preaching, not by wielding force, not by employing an agenda or caring what other people think...but simply by honest example. 
It's all about relationship.
My little 'holy' teacher chose this as his first, and quite possibly most important lesson. And when the veneer of my ludicrious pre-conceived notions and expectations began to crack, a simple and beautiful truth began to shine through.
The details, the schedules, the 'stuff' isn't important.
It's all about relationship. Parenting, marriage, family, life, love....God.
As Landon grows, Mike and I hope to always value this truth in our parenting.
When tempted to anger, we hope to instead chose patience.
When led astray by distractions, we hope to embrace spontaneity and opt to be present with our child.
When faced with an easy-out, we hope walk the path of highest integrity alongside Landon, however rough it may be.
It's all about relationship.
If I could write a letter and send it back in time to my pre-parent self, it may say simply that. :)

Letter to Landon

 With Landon's first birthday fast approaching, I took a look through his baby book and came across the letter we wrote to him before he was born. Wanting to make sure my only handwritten copy didn't get lost or chewed on by a very busy toddling baby boy, I thought I would include it on Landon's blog:)

November 18th, 2010

Dear Landon,

For five months now we have dreamed about you, wondered about you, marveled at your firsts (first time hearing your heartbeat, first time feeling you kick, first time feeling your tiny, bony foot protruding from my belly) and this week we got to see your face on an ulstrasound and found out you were a boy! We are having a son, and the joy and love we feel for you already is bigger than the sky.
When we arrived at Dr. Case's both Mommy and Daddy were chatting and laughing nervously, just so excited to meet you. When the nurse called us back, we both looked at eachother and smiled, it didn't quite seem real that in a few minutes we would know so much more about you.
The exam room door creaked open moments after the nurse left us, and Dr. Case extended his hand and introduced himself. Landon, in life you will meet all kinds of people; some who make you feel good, warm, and comforted with their kind presence, some, of course, who do not. Landon, Mom and Dad want you to know that you can learn something from ALL types of people. Dr. case was the first kind, though:)
As Daddy held onto Mommy's oustretched hand, Dr. Case told Mommy and Daddy that no matter if you were healthy or sick, boy or girl, he and Dr. Lawler would take care of you...that there was no problem we couldn't work through together, and that he and Dr. Lawler could be added to the long list of people that love you. As you grow, both now and after we are born Landon, I hope you always know those three things to be true.
As the screen flickered to life, Mommy and Daddy watched in awe as your face pieced together before our eyes.
"The chin and mouth look like me!" Mommy exclaimed.
Landon, right away Mom was so struck by how much of herself she could see in you...it was surreal. Daddy looked on with love, so amazed to be seeing you for the first time.
The doctor made measurements of your bones, your body, and your organs as he talked and moved the wand. With a voice that sounded like a smooth, warm cup of tea on a cold day, he reassured us, "All of this looking perfectly normal, healthy."
Landon, we would have loved you no matter if you were crippled and sick or healthy as a horse. As you go through life though, you learn never to take good health for granted...and when we found out how healthy you were, we felt so, so blessed.
As the wand moved and pushed on Mommy's belly some more, we could see your thigh bones (and what was in between them) flash across the screen. Mommy knew right away that you were a boy, before the doctor even said those anticipated words, "It's a boy! You have a son."
It makes me laugh to think how this might be embarrassing for you to read later in life, but if you take anything away from it, imagine the look on your Daddy's face when he found out he was having a son. His eyes twinkeled with so much joy, so much love...I could almost see him imagining all of the things he'll teach you, do with you, enjoy with you. You are so lucky to have him as a Daddy, Landon. He is such a good man and you will learn so much from him.
As I finish writing this letter we are just weeks away from meeting you! We can't wait to see you for the first time, to hold you, to count your little fingers and toes, to talk about who's eyes you have...our excitement is tangible.
Still, as I sit here and can feel your knees, elbows, feet, and fists squirming this way and that in my belly, YOU remind me of something. It's as if I feel the urge to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and imprint this moment in time on my heart...like a photographer capturing a still photo of a fiery sunset.
Landon, in life we can get so focused on looking forward to the future and waiting for that 'next' thing to happen that we can miss the beauty of the journey. Carrying you, nurturing you, and being a part of YOU for nine months has been the most fulfilling journey of my life. Not quite two, yet not fully one...we share a conncetion that is powerful. As you begin this amazing adventure of life and enter this big world, let that connection, that LOVE that Dad, God, and I have with you be the flame that burns inside you, fuels your dreams, makes you reach for the stars. Always remember where you came from, Landon, and let that same love be your safe haven, your soft place to fall.
YOU will do GREAT things.
We love you.

Love,
Mom & Dad

The Perfect Storm

They say that when it rains, it pours. As a cold and stormy January rolled into our little town, we had yet to realize just how true that old idiom would prove to be. We could sense something was coming. It could have been in how the darkness of night set in a little too quickly. It could have been in how the clouds hung just a little too low. It could have been in how each raindrop splashed against the ground just a little too heavily. Whatever it was, we watched the sky carefully with both a dutiful worry and a childish, voyerestic excitement.
The forecast began hinting at snow. Mike and I smiled at our baby boy, unable to stiffle our happiness. Yes, mention of the word 'snow' admitedly induced an instant headache for those out on the roads. Yes, snow would surely change some of our plans and inconvenience us a bit. In our practical, responsible 'adult' minds, we should have let out a collective sigh and hoped for the storm to spin off track, missing us entirely. Then, of course, the march of day-to-day life could continue on without missing a beat. "Heavy snow likely....." Mike, the 'meteorologist' of our household began to read from his computer screen. My eyes lit up, Mike smirked, Landon shrieked and clapped his hands! That little bit of child buried deep inside all of us began to burst it's way out. We couldn't wait!
Dusk painted the sky a deep, wintery blue just as the first snowflakes began fluttering down. Landon yawned and before long his sweet eyelids drooped heavy with sleep. After laying Landon in bed, Mike and I turned on the porch light, our eyes glued to the window. The night sky trapped the light from the town below us and hung thick with the distinctive orange, foggy clouds that seem to all but promise a heaping of snow. The rhythm of the snow had picked up too, no longer a soft twirling dance, the flakes fell heavy and fast like the beat of a snare drum. The patio furniture that initially wore only a dusting of frosty white was quickly gathering powdery inches. "There is no way you are going to work tomorrow," I remarked, steeling a glance at Mike. Visions of Mike, Landon, and I  laughing as we rolled, slid, and frolicked in the snow filled my head. Oh how wonderful it would be for our little family to have a snow day together! Maybe Landon would even enjoy his sled this time....
Climbing the stairs I peeked in on Landon. Still fast asleep, he was snoring pretty heavily. Not thinking much of it, I laughed it off, assuming he was just really enjoying his sleep.
When it rains, it pours....
As the light of dawn peeked it's way through the blinds, I knew instantly why Landon had been snoring so loud.
With a snort, a sniffle, and an impossibly stuffed-up sneeze, Landon woke up. He looked at me with his big blue eyes, an expression of tired, bewildered confusion painted on his face. Mama, why the heck can't I breathe through my nose and  whyI do I feel so awful, he seemed to be saying. He let out a nasaly sigh, hiccuped once, and then began to wail! Here we go.....
Walking downstairs with my miserable baby, I looked out the sliding glass door. It was obvious that it had been snowing off and on all night long...and it was still snowing! The deep snowdrifts seemed to beckon for us to come play in them. How tempting, how inviting....how ironic. Taking one good look at Landon I came to the grim realization that there was NO way we would be playing in the snow. His red-rimmed eyes watered as both nostrils leaked a steady stream. With a sigh, I headed down the hallway to start steaming up the bathroom to help decongest Landon. Poor baby...
The next few days, our neighborhood was blanketed in a wintery white. Outside the house walls neighbor children squeeled with delight as snowballs flew through though the air. Families sailed down the street on sleds with a whoosh, belly laughing with glee. And Landon, emerging from his tenth 'steam treatment' of the day, moaned. Just a few more days, I kept thinking to myself, and he'll be better.
The next day temperatures rose and the snow began to melt. Not seeing any improvement in Landon yet, I was secretely relieved to see some of the snow dripping into a watery slush. At least if Landon's condition worsened to the point of needing medical attention, the roads would be passible. Knowing that gave me a sense of security.
That security was short lived.
As evening fell that day, a fine misty rain began to blow in. At first, even Mike the 'meteorologist' didn't think much of it. Not having heard any significant warnings on the news, we assumed the snow event was fizziling out, changing over to rain as predicted. It was then that I noticed the streetlight out the back window. It was illuminating a nearby tree, and something didn't look right.
"Do you see that?" I asked Mike, pointing out the window, "That tree out there. It looks like it's starting to form ice all around it's branches."
"Hmmm...," Mike replied, looking out the window for himself, "Maybe it is. But it's raining....it can't be that cold." He then shrugged it off, not worried.
But it was that cold. And getting colder....
As the night wore on, the fine mist continued and the temperature dropped....and dropped. Everything the mist landed on instantly froze. By the time morning arrived everything outdoors had a thin casing of clear, crystal shining from it. And the mist was still there, falling from the sky like small pieces of glitter. Tree tops bowed with the weight of the ice, and we watched slightly horrified as they bent lower, lower, lower.
When the lights flickered we knew things were getting serious. Then with a few final coughs and sputters, the power went out.
It was dark. It was cold. And Landon was still sick!
Thankfully, Mike fired up the generator. Being stuck inside for an entire week,  Landon and I  were getting stircrazy! At least we would have light and warmth.
Despite feeling crumby, Landon was happy to play with his cousin Isa who came over for the day. Being the only ones on the block with electricity, we hosted an improvised 'pizza party' later that night and Landon was thrilled to see the neighbor kids who came over to play. It was such a nice distraction for him!
A few days later, the roads finally cleared, the snow began to melt for good, and the power came back on! A new sense of relief started to set in. We were on the home stretch! Even Landon seeemed to be a little more energetic, a little less fussy. He was on the mend!
Or so we thought.....
A second full week into his nasty cold, he started taking a turn for the worse AGAIN! More congestion, more snot, more misery.
Turns out, he caught a second virus ON TOP of the one he already had.
When it rains, it pours.....
Now into his 3rd week of being sick, Landon is FINALLY starting to get better.
 Parenting, yet again, has humbled me and taught me an important lesson. It's so easy to take for granted good health, a warm roof over our heads, a full plate, or a hot shower. These things, although they seem so fundamental, are not rights we are entitled to. They are not something to defiantly expect. They are, like many things in this life, a blessing to be deeply thankful for each and every day.
And today, that feeling of gratitude....knowing deep down how very blessed I am, is a gift in and of itself.
Health, home, happiness, AND Landon. I am so very thankful.

Landon's First Christmas

" 'Sure Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.....

And there were in the same country, sheperds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shown round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tiding of great joy which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multiude of heavenly hosts, praising God and saying 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'

That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown."

-Linus Quoting Luke 8:14

As we wound around the curvy, snow-kissed roads just east of Snoqualmie Pass, Mike and I discussed the very Christmas story depicted in Luke. In a matter of minutes, we would be arriving at the vacation home we'd rented along with my family, nesteled in the frosty white hills just outside of Roslynn. It was our gift to eachother, this experience of spending Christmas in the mountains, and as Mike, Landon, and I neared the exit for Roslynn our wonder-filled conversation continued. This would be Landon's first Christmas, and knowing the deep joy and unconditional love that we feel for our new son, we were both struck with a sense of awe for how the birth of Christ must have affected two very human parents. What hope, what excitement, what a vulnerable and heart-eclipsing love....in our own humble way we could relate.
Moments later, our tires crunched into the frozen driveway of Sierra Meadows Lodge. The river-rock accents and cedar-shingle siding radiated warmth and comfort. It was beautiful! We couldn't wait to take a look around!

After touring the house, unpacking, and settling into our respective rooms, we were all ready to eat! With coats and mittens in hand, we bundled Landon up and headed out the door to Sweet Water Celler's for dinner.

As we pulled up to the winery's circular drive, a huge firepit crackled orange against the dark snow. Christmas music echoed through the air, twinkle lights danced against the sky, and we smiled. Could it get any more festive?
The evening floated by and soon we found ourselves stuffed with tasty food and warmed with good wine. As we prepared to leave, we noticed that Landon had been staring at his uncle Adam for quite awhile. He was intrigued by him, and we were sure he wanted a closer look:) Handing Landon over to Adam, we watched as Landon's curiousity turned to terror. The closer and closer Landon's face came to Adam's beard, the more distressed he got. We were all amused and couldn't help but laugh...all except for Landon. What a good sport Adam was!

The next day was Christmas Eve. We awoke to a vibrant winter sunrise, streaking the mountain sky with glowing pinks and periwinkle blue. It was breathtaking! As we drank our coffee and watched Landon play with his toys, we kept watch out the huge great room windows for elk. The evening before we had seen an entire heard prance by; big bulls, tiny wobbly babies...every shape and size! They reminded me of reindeer as they gracefully made their way through the snow. I smiled thinking that if Landon was a little older, he might have thought the same thing. How magical that would have been for him!
Despite the clear skies, there was still a decent amount of snow on the ground (at least by our standards). As my mom, sister, and I began our Christmas baking, the guys headed out the door to rent snowmobiles for the day. Poor Landon was, of course, not quite old enough. He sure LOVED spending time with his grandma and autie Andrea though!

That afternoon, we decided to take Landon out in his sled. I scooped him up as he happily buzzed around the living room, and as I put his hat on he was all smiles!

Then came the snowsuit! As we stuffed him in, one limb at a time, his eyebrows creased into a look of concern. As we began to zip him up, his smile started to fade. As we buttoned his last button, he looked like a tick about ready to pop, and he was MAD!

At this point, he had lost complete trust in us. What were we trying to do to him?! Mike strapped him into his sled.

Grabbing the handle and pulling the rope taut, we all beamed at Landon, faces pasted with over-enthusiastic smiles. The sled began to lurch forward and we responded with a collective 'Wheeeeeeeeeee!' Landon was NOT buying it! An exasperated wail burst out of his little mouth!

Just when we were about ready to take pity on poor Landon and prematurely end his sledding excursion, something remarkable happened. Like any good mammal, Landon reached into his aresonal of defense mechanisms and launched into a form of 'playing dead'. His red plastic sled bumped over imprinted tire treds and snowdrifts, and slumping over to the side he....went....limp. Eyes cast forward in an unblinking stare, mouth set in a straight line...the only discernable movement was the ocassional head-bob as his sled hippity-hopped over a snowcovered rock.

After posing for a few family photos, we took a VERY peeved Landon inside to the warm fireplace. He was asleep for a nice, long nap within minutes. What a day! And we thought sledding would be the highlight of the trip for Landon:) Maybe next year...

Christmas Eve night and Christmas morning were spent watching Landon 'open presents' and be slightly more interested in 'eating' the wrapping paper and playing with the box than what was actually inside the package. Still, everyone was SO generous with Landon (his auntie Andrea got him a baby 'baby grand' piano!)and made his Christmas so very special. He is one incredibly blessed baby boy!

After the excitement of Christmas morning, Landon was spent! Soon, he was fast asleep in Grampa's arms.

Just then, it began to snow! In the great room, speckles of cotton-white seemed to fall from ceiling to floor. The soft glowing light that can only be brought about by snowfall washed over everything. With the fire crackling, savory food in the oven, and Christmas music playing, we couldn't have been more cozy. It was like nature's own Christmas gift, just for us!



After a delicious Christmas dinner with dear friends who came by (the Popson family), we could feel Christmas day drawing to a close. With bellies full and spirits high (maybe highest for the guys....depending on how many 'spirits' they had at this point, hehe) we posed for a picture around the great room fireplace.

Christmas can mean many different things to different people. It can be about the decorations, the parties, the songs, and most notoriously, the gifts. This Christmas, Landon's first Christmas, we all received such a precious gift in the time spent together as family. Our wish for Landon is that he never forget the true meaning of Christmas, that he see beyond the material 'gifts' and realize the blessing he has in those that love him, and, of course, that it ALL started the way many good things start....with the birth of an itty bitty, humble, little baby.