And so the Christmasing Begins... :)

Christmas has always been one of my favorite times of the year. :) So many of my childhood memories are linked to our traditions and the simple joys of this season...each ornament on our tree is so much more than a decoration--it links the present with the past and takes me back to feeling like a little girl. [Though I am no so very ancient now.]
From this point on to Christmas I am always busy making gifts for family and friends--at first through necessity from having no money at all, and now by habit and preference, though this year money is an issue. I love the challenge of making something amazing without spending a red cent. I have a huge [relatively] present in the works for a dear friend of mine, and I will post pictures of it tomorrow night or Saturday morning--after I've given it to her. I am proud to say that I will have spend all of about...10 cents (if that) on this present, but if I was selling it I'd go for....a whole lot more. I ought to patent the idea and make millions. ;)
But back to Christmas--In recent years my satisfaction as far as gifts go has gone far more into making them than into receiving them, though I love to get gifts as well. There is a supreme happiness and rightness in spending hours on a gift for another person. I could make the same exact gift for myself but there would be little contentment in that--why would I want to keep it when I know it will make that person so happy? :)
As this post is already disjointed and rambling and doesn't know Where It's Going, I will kick off two more random points.
Point One: I am loving Michael Buble's Christmas music this year...his voice is just so classic and vintage and perfect for all my beloved carols!

Michael Buble "White Christmas" 

(One of my favorites! Gotta listen to it! :)

Point Two: Click here to read Mr. Woodhouse's opinion on what a lover should give his beloved for the 12th day of Christmas! :D (Thanks to Miss Georgiana Darcy for pointing me to it!)

"It Takes a Heap O' Livin'"

Here is a poem that has grown close to my heart through the years...it was especially relevant to me during our 2-year sojourn at a house situated in what we called "The Red Zone". We had our fair share, during those years, of witnessing drive-by shootings, drug deals, and other sad activities. Yet the Lord blessed our time there and we were able to be a city on a hill that could not be hidden.

"It Takes a Heap O' Livin'"

Edgar A. Guest

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t'make it home,

A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye somtimes have t'roam

Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,

An' hunger for 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.

It don't make any difference how rich ye get t'be,

How much yer chairs an' tables coast, how great yer luxury;

It ain' a hom t'ye, thought it be the palace of a king,

Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute'

Afore it's home there's got t'be a heap o' livin' in it;

Within the walls there's got t'be some babies born, and then

Right there ye've got t'bring 'em up t'women good, and' men;

And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part

With anything they ever used--they've grown into yer heart:

The old high-chairs, the play things, too, the little shoes they wore

Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye'eve got t'weep t'make it home, ye'eve got t'sit an' sigh

An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;

An' in the stillness o' the night t'see Death's angel come

An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.

For these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried,

An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories

O' her that was an' is no more--ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got to sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t'romp an' play,

An' learn t'love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;

Even the roses round the porch must blossom year by year

Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear

Who used t'love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em just t'run

The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;

Ye've got to love each brck an' stone from cellar up t'dome;

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t'make it home."