Not-So-Merry Melodies
I never thought I'd say this, but last night, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer gave me nightmares. No, I'm not kidding! Jason and I were exploring different Christmas playlists on YouTube, seeking some festive background music while we worked. We stumbled upon what promised to be "Epic Christmas Arrangements," and wow, what a mixed bag that turned out to be!
Some of them were breathtaking, like the gorgeous orchestral version of "O Holy Night" that gave me goosebumps. But then things took a turn. Picture, if you will, "Jingle Bells" transformed into something that sounds like it belongs in a horror movie. The tune clicked and whirred like a broken music box from some abandoned Victorian nursery. The jolly "ho-ho-ho" became a sinister echo, and those cheerful jingling bells morphed into an ominous warning of impending doom.
The Perfect Tree
A couple of weeks ago, Jason and I bundled up against the Welsh winter and headed to our favorite Christmas tree farm. For the past few years, we've made the journey to this quaint spot where the elderly owner greets us with his warm smile and fascinating stories.
This year was no different. As we wandered through the rows of fragrant evergreens, he shuffled alongside us, sharing his observations about his customers' varied preferences. "You know," he said, adjusting his woolen cap, "it's quite remarkable how everyone has their own idea of the perfect tree."
He gestured toward a towering specimen that must have been at least eight feet tall. "Some families," he said, "want the tallest tree they can possibly fit in their house. But then," he chuckled, "others prefer the smaller ones they can place on a tabletop."
I smiled, thinking of our Tess and her enthusiastic tail.
Life’s Little Luxuries
Have you ever noticed how quickly we can go from feeling blessed to feeling stressed? Take, for instance, our recent adventure with the fierce storm that wreaked havoc on our area. It not only knocked out our power but also damaged a water pump somewhere along our line. And just like that—no water!
The water company, bless their hearts, sent out a message early Saturday morning explaining the situation and promising to have everything sorted by afternoon. Spoiler alert: it wasn't. Then they assured us it would be fixed by evening. Again, no dice. This merry-go-round of promises continued through Sunday and into Monday, leaving us feeling rather like contestants on a survival reality show.
You don't truly appreciate the miracle of indoor plumbing until you're hauling buckets of borrowed water just to flush the toilet!
Staying Connected When Life Goes Dark
As a missionary in the beautiful, yet often rainy and windy, country of Wales, I've become quite the expert at walking into rooms and flipping light switches that I know full well won't work. I've also mastered the art of trying to wash my hands with water that isn't flowing, followed by the classic "Oh, right!" moment of realization. It's amazing how many times in a single day a person can forget there's no power or water!
Last week's storm brought a special kind of challenge. Instead of one prolonged power outage (which I could have handled with dignity and grace... maybe), we experienced what I like to call the "disco light special" – power flickering on and off throughout the day. Each time the power returned, I'd dash around the house like a contestant on a game show, resetting clocks, checking the heating, and most importantly, coaxing our temperamental internet router back to life.
Feathered Friends and a Faithful Father
The sound of hedge trimmers filled the air as workers buzzed about our property, giving our shrubs their annual haircut. While the trimming certainly improved the appearance of our garden, not everyone was thrilled with the landscape makeover. Our feathered friends, who had made these hedges their temporary homes, were notably disturbed by this disruption to their peaceful existence.
Day after day, I gazed out my bedroom window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar birds that usually frequented our feeder. The garden seemed eerily quiet without their cheerful chirping and playful acrobatics. My heart sank a little each time I noticed the untouched birdseed on the driveway outside my office.
When I expressed my concern to Jason, he offered a suggestion that was both practical and profound. "Why don't we make an extra effort to show them we still care? Let's put out more food than usual, maybe even some special treats."