We left gifts at our neighbor's door for several days, each day corresponding to one of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Several days into it, Delores paid the family a visit. She knocked on the door. Our neigbor opened the door and looked at the ground before realizing that Delores was standing there. I suppose they were expecting a doorbell ditcher...
Whodda thunk?
Shhh! Don't tell anyone I'm hiding out here with my camoflage sweatpants or they might find me...
A while back, I mentioned Kevin's eagle project. Today was the grand ceremony. Keven and two other young men were welcomed to the Eagle's Nest in honor this evening.
The program was very neat. A gentleman brought a live bald eagle, named Liberty, and spoke with us about her and about eagle-ish things worthy of looking up to. He explained to us that Liberty was in captivity because of an injury on a power line years ago. Although in captivity, Liberty's pride was in no respect diminished. She commanded our attention by flapping her enormous wings, sending a powerful wave of air across the entire gym.
Eagles mate for life. When they migrate north to Canada, they always find their way to the exact same nest, and are fiercely loyal to their tiny family. Some aviators have sighted eagles as high as 20,000 feet, and they will at times break into a dive at speeds of over 100mph. They are far-sighted birds, and can recognize a rabbit from two miles away. I felt like this symbolized our desire to look where we are going and see with clarity the things that guide our decisions in life.
During the flag ceremony, I held Abigail in my left arm while my right hand was over my heart. I tried to snag Abigail's right hand with my fingers and press it to her heart. Her left hand was firmly ensconced in her mouth. After the ceremony was finished and we removed our hands, Abigail's right hand quickly went to her side. But her left? Oh no. That was to remain in her cheery, drooling mouth for some time yet.
The Veterans of Foreign Wars presented flags and certificates of honor to the boys. I was touched when these seven men who had served our country, and continue to give service to the community, gave what they felt was their highest honor to the boys. The Vice Commander shouted Present Arms. Each of the seven honorable old men saluted the boys. Order Arms. There was an odd sense of quietness in the air and a peaceful expression on the faces of the boys.
My father, who had visited Scotland with my mother earlier in the year, brought back patches commemorating the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts in Scotland. The patches contained stylized reproductions of scetches made by Baden Powell of the very first Boy Scouts doing their activities. He gave one to Kevin and to each of the rest of us.
That is our last eagle, at least until my nephews come of age. Counting my father there are seven of us now, and a mother who has been a surrogate eagle five times. I've never regretted my eagle, and I am proud of Keven for earning his.
My favorite parts of the Christmas season are the family gatherings. Each year my grandmother hosts a Christmas celebration at a church house near her home. We get together, hear a few words from my grandma, watch the great-grandkids and a few of the rest of us share a song or a talent, and stage a nativity pageant.
The tradition is similar for the Dorton clan. We were excited to include Abigail in the nativity scene. We had borrowed a cow outfit from my sister, Marian, for halloween. We were just able to squeeze Abigail into it and she was so inocently cute that my daddy-heart melted.
Abigail's cousin, Samuel, was also a cow. As a matter of fact, there were no sheep. If we are to accept the Dorton account of the Savior's birth, the shepherds were in fact cowboys; or, more correctly, a single cowgirl, driving their herd of cattle to the inn to see the holy Child.
I had once fallen out of love with the Christmas holiday. I can't exactly say why. But watching my little child dressed as a cow, lying on her tummy, and grazing on a burp cloth, stirred something in me that I was missing. Her eyes will gaze at our tree in wonder. She sings carols with us with innocent abandon. She snuggles close and wants to be held, and for some reason, it feels more like Christmas than I have ever known.
Come with me and share in my joy. We experienced a neat blessing over the weekend.
I carry a number of things in my pocket: nail clippers, pens, keys, etc. Sometimes It seems my pockets are simply a walking purse. We were to travel south to see family, so I pulled my keys from my pocket only to spill the entire contents of my pocket on the wet blacktop. I chuckled at my clumsiness and south we went.
Abigail is teething, and with teething comes an incredible amount of drool and, yes, baby OraGel. A neighbor gave us a sample that we have been very grateful for. It has helped our sweet child through several nights. After applying some OraGel, Delores handed the tube to me and it promptly went into my pocket with everything else.
I returned home without Delores and Abigail on account of the heavy snow storm that hit the area. When I returned home that night, I had a conversation with Delores on the phone. Abigail was having another troublesome night. Delores looked for the OraGel. There it was, sitting alone on the driver's seat of the car. She picked it up and Abigail slept soundly.
She told me this and I checked my pockets. Everything else was there. Keys, nail clippers; all of it. I guess it was a really neat blessing that Of all the things to have fall from my pocket, it was the one thing that would be wanted most when I was so far away.
There's an expression that goes: "The fact that light travels faster than sound explains why some folks look bright before they speak." I suppose that's partly because it is so difficult to listen while speaking.
Abigail was somewhat irritable over the course of the last week. Teething was suspect, so we checked her bottom gums for teeth (because "they", the anonymous baby gurus, say bottom teeth come first. No teeth, nor any signs of teeth. Naturally, we start wondering about ear infections. Abigail did have a cold the previous week.
At length, we get in to the doctor. After Abigail made it through a swarm of adoring nurses, one nurse feels her mouth for a second. She has a tooth! It's on the top row. Curse "they" and us for listening... That wasn't all. There was, in fact, an incipient infection in her ear.
Now, with a much happier baby, I spend some time musing. Teeth arriving symbolizes another stride toward a speaking Abigail. On the other hand, the ear infection seems to suggest to the hopelessly imaginative soul that with speaking comes the challenge to listen.
It's an exciting step, teeth. At least one reason is my lighthearted sense of competition with the neighbor boy. Young Mr. Kimball is two weeks older than Abigail and sports two lower teeth. The arrival of a top tooth filled me with glib satisfaction. "They" say that top teeth come later. That means, for some reason I couldn't possibly justify or explain, that Abigail is gaining an edge! I suppose that is just a mask for my excitement for my sweet little girl.
