holiday ABC's

I'll be honest.

My last post absolutely overwhelmed me.

Yes, it did convey a sweet message,

but it was also unsettlingly long.

so I've decided to go another route with our Christmas recap.

an entry with more of children's picture book feel.

because, let's face it.

no one likes blog novels.

Richfield pics by the one and only Mr. Parker DeMille.
Love my little hunk of a photographer.
I only wish he'd take all my pics...

so without further ado...
our

holiday 
ABC's!

Adorable homemade Aprons for my dear family's favorite kitchen terrors.

Yes, my husband did ask me if I'd EVER made good toffee after my third botched batch.

Thank you for the vote of confidence baby.

An epic day of snowBoarding in the freshest of Northstar powder.

Yes, Parker did try out his new snowboard.

And yes, he did indeed fall in love.

At first I thought it might be with my crazy talented cousin Josh.

Now I'm leaning more towards the sport.

He's obsessed.

It's pretty cute.

Cabin fever!

Did I mention the contractor must have been on crack when he made the plans for this place?

I could never do the place justice with just words, but I'll do my best to paint you a mental picture.

woodsy, whack,with winding staircases and only one way out.

Did it have a garage carved out of a giant boulder?

Yes it did.

Did it have skylights over the beds piled with 2-plus feet of snow?

Yes, yes it had those too.

A kitchen for the herd to graze in?

Of course!

Did it have a hot tub on the outer balcony off the sweet master suite we shared with Jason & Ashlee?

It surely did!

How 'bout a humidifying indoor waterfall built off the side of a massive wood-burning fireplace?

Yes and yes.

Oh how this strangely beautiful fire hazard of a cabin spoiled us.

I found its quirks quite charming and worth every minute of our 5-hour online house hunt. 

Lots of minion-loving and a Despicable Me Christmas morning cuddle-fest.

"Whaaaaaaaaat?"

Pictured above:

The minion my cute Mom created.

she's just amazing, that mom of mine.

and my minion, he's adorable.

i am one lucky girl!

Eating like a family of hungry hungry hippos.

Ashlee's food baby made for more than one raised eyebrow.

so, so funny

that seester of mine.

Ash & Haley in food comas...

And yes, this is my mess.

I took my little masterpieces outside to cool and

SPLAT!

Everyone laughed

No one was surprised.

story of my life...

 Family photos!

I'm amazed we pulled this one off.

Between one majorly-ADD dog,

two bad attitudes,

three separate calls for retakes in the midst of severe snow flurries,

and more stressed smiles & squinty eyes than I can count,

we had our work cut out for us.
What?
You thought we were always this good-looking???

Not a chance...
:)

Christmas with the Greenwells, Whites & Wilsons.

Now this is a group that knows how to have fun.

I can't even begin to tell you how much I love my family.

So we'll leave it at that.

I love them!

My only wish...

that the Texas & Colorado gangs could've joined us too.

We missed you.

Hot tubbing in the middle of a Tahoe blizzard.

And having to remind a certain family member that it isn't polite to pop a zit when in close proximity to others...

even if it's your spouse's pus-pocket that's just begging to be picked.

Gas we'll allow though.

It's just a few extra bubbles...

Looking like lost little sheep amidst the Ikea herds while searching for a teeny-tiny-apartment-friendly desk.

Lots of last minute shopping, post-Christmas gift-swapping, and a newfound love for skinny Jeans.

I'm weak!

I know!

But I'll be honest.

I wonder now why I resisted the trend for so long

(maybe because I thought they'd make me look like a hippo???).

But my super sexy new boots made me set those fears aside,

and when I did, I realized... 

you can't fight good fashion.

(And because I owe it to the world to share it...

Ashlee's Fashion tip: Forever 21 skinnies

You can thank me later.)

Wishing we could give Delta Airlines a big Kick in the pants!

I won't bore you with a recap of the Delta drama we faced trying to fly into Reno,

but I will tell you of the trouble we had getting out.

We wake up BEFORE the crack of dawn (4 o'clock to be exact) to make it to the airport in time to catch our 6:25 a.m. flight.

We signed up for this flight to ensure that I'd make it to work by 10.

Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy right?!

Wrong.

Greedy Delta decides, again, to consolidate;

this time using the excuse of a "sleepy crew."

(which I may have believed had they not required the 11:15 a.m. passengers to join us on a flight now set to leave at 9:30...which, by measure of MST, would mean I'd now be leaving a full half hour AFTER the start of my shift.  Lovely.)

We opt to just stay at the airport.

No sense in making Dad double back to make the trip two hours later.

We try to sleep.

But it's FREEZING,

below freezing,

INSIDE THE AIRPORT!!!

I go so far as to put up $13 for an airport blanket that's about as thick as two-ply toilet paper.

We try hot chocolate too.

Nothing works.

So we suffer through.

Hate our lives the whole way home.

And do the math to see if we'd really "saved" by flying Delta.

By the time we factored in the pay I'd missed for an early flight to Reno and late flight home,

and being nickel-and-dimed with our bag check,

I'd say we'd have been better off flying Southwest.

Never again Delta.

Never again.

Your rates aren't worth the trouble. 

Lazing around on Sunday afternoons.

The Bodily's came down to Richfield for a visit over New Year's weekend.

Between a big Sunday dinner, heaps of sweets, and a few intense rounds of Ticket to Ride,

I'd say we had the perfect Sunday

(though Houston and Parker might beg to differ...I made a few unintentional (and intentional) enemies at the Ticket to Ride table.  Congrats again to Kristy for her big win!  I think it saved our marriage).

We capped of the night with some couples Sequence with Kristy & Tristan before skipping on home to Salt Lake.

I only wish we didn't have to do that last part.

It's never fun leaving Richfield.

Trying to help our little PC's make peace with the newest member of our family, baby Mac.  

It's hard living in your massive little sibling's shadow.

New wardrobes, new boots and new Nikes too.

Mr. "Don't even think about breaking the budget" totally doubled it with just one "fergalicious" purchase.

I told him I'd forgive him of his hypocrisy just this once

(and maybe a second time if he decided to buy me the ones in tan too).

I'm in love with my boots.

I mean my husband.

:)

 He spoils me.

But our parents spoil us in turn.

so I guess it all comes full circle.

We's such lucky little ducks.

Loving on my one and Only Miss Molly.

Oh how I miss my chubby brown dog!

such a goob...

(Not pictured: Tiffany deVries & Todd Marchant

And a few people we missed:

Jillian Proulx & Jared and Brooke Olson)

Parties at the White House with the original Sparks crew.

It's been a full 2 years since we've all been together.

Boys set off on missions.

Girls ran off to college.

Most boys came home to Reno's blue school.

The girls (and some boys) laid their true blue roots in Utah.

One boy married a Reno girl.

One girl married a Utah boy.

And the rest are still living up the single life

(though some are coming precariously close to the transition point

bling! bling!).

We may be living different lives, but we laugh as much as we ever did.

I love my friends...

Learning to appreciate the little Quips in the Westerns my dad so loves.

Growing up with John Wayne & the History Channel laid the foundations of what I thought would be a lifelong aversion to anything remotely related to the Wild Wild West.
I fought seeing True Grit tooth and nail, only compromising because Dad 
A. so desperately wanted to see it
and 
B. had been a semi-good sport about all our post-Christmas shopping.
And what do you know...
I actually liked it.
Did I enjoy the ending?
No so much.
Would I see it again?
Now that I know the plot, probably not.
But I definitely felt like I got my $10 worth the day we went.
So I'd recommend it.
And that's a big deal for me,
a Western-hater and movie critic all balled up into one.

Lady Raiders Soccer
Spring 2007

A Lady Raiders Reunion at none other than our beloved IHOP.

Well...the newer version of our beloved IHOP.

The ghetto one we used to go to closed down.

sad day.

BUT, seeing my girls made up for it all.

It's amazing how much has changed...

and how much hasn't.

Outspoken Marisa's interviewing for med schools.

Contemplative and quick-witted Mo's off to Spain.

Comedian Tiff's headed out to who-knows-where on her mission.

Sweet Sarah's stealing hearts and finishing up school.

And then there's me...

all growed up and married.

Well...maybe just married.

:)

Sledding, snowball fights, and snowboarding in a winter storm.

We hiked up and down the mountainside to squeeze in as many runs as we could before sundown.

If I can find a way to link you to the video of my colossal crash you can chuckle along with the rest of the spectators.

It's pretty sad.

But then again, so is the scene where Molly straight up attacks me.

Thank you again, Jason, for issuing the command.

Missed you too big bro.

Game after game after game after game of good 'ol Ticket to Ride Europe.

You could say we're a little obsessed.

Maybe even a little competitive.

But when you pair a card-counting Dad with an indiscriminate building Mom, vindictive little sister, and a brother who can't build a tunnel to save his life, it's impossible to resist a rematch.

My favorite Ticket to Ride incident:

We're halfway through the game.

Mom has yet to build and has half the deck in her hand.

As play continues around the table, she leans over to my brother.

"Jason...have you seen a grey one yet? I can't draw one to save my life!"

"There are no grey cards Mom.  The grey spaces are wild."

"Oh. That explains it."

This wouldn't be funny, except for the fact that my Mom's played this game...many, many times before.

Gotta love games with Mom.

Celebrating the start of 2011 in the lovely Richfield, Utah.

I wouldn't choose to ring in the New Year anywhere else.

I love being at the DeMille's.

It feels like home.

Whoever thought I'd find in-laws as silly and sassy and as I am?

Plus they're Sequence-lovers too!

It's magical.

A Very Merry Christmas Eve at the White House.

We decided to do gifts before setting off to Tahoe.

Can you tell we're just a little bit spoiled?

You couldn't slap those silly little grins off our faces.

Thanks so much Mom & Dad!

And thanks again to Shauna too!

I can't imagine having missed all this...

 

Wii Tennis. 

I think my power serve made Parker fall in love all over again.

And, little Miss Haley, I'd like to remind you and your boy Brett that your big "W" was, indeed, a pity win.

You can thank us later for making sure he made it home before curfew.

We're so thoughtful...

:)

This may have been just before the wii-chuck incident...
can you tell Daddy Dave has his game face on?

Making an eXtra special effort to stay positive once all the fun came to an end.

It's hard to go from go, go, go to slow, slow, slow...

especially when you're go, go, going with all the people you love.

Yukking it up.
We laughed at laughed and laughed some more.
We always do when we're with family.
We laughed at the dinky mantle, 
at Ashlee's inability to maneuver her way through the front door,
and at my Mom's concern over the black trains building all up in hers and Haley's grill
(when they, in fact, were the black team).
We laughed at Kristy's kinky (moreso kinked) Ticket to Ride trains
and Karen's bi-tracktual behavior.
We laughed when Dad unintentionally hucked his Wii remote across the room,
and laughed harder when he dove to catch the mini Christmas tree it'd fully destroyed in its wake.
We laughed when Josh whacked Uncle Glenn with a swift backhand and laughed at Jason's many whiffs.
We laughed when I clumsily dropped the tray of desserts we'd just baked and laughed harder when we realized we'd left our trifle cake out on the deck by Miss Molly's truffles.
Oh how much fun we have when we're together!
These are the moments I really miss the most.

And a craZy Christensen's shopping spree.
Because Richfield's population fills the generosity cup to the brim, Parker and I still had an account to shop with down at the local Department Store.
We set out in search of housewares, or anything else that might qualify as a more traditional wedding gift.
But we struck out.
So we shopped instead!
I am so, so pleased with our purchases,
especially my new Steve Madden coat.
It's darling.
As is Parker's tush in his new jeans.
:)

Thank. you. Richfield.

Merry Christmas 2010
&
Happy 2011


You've got big shoes to fill,
but, if you play your cards right,
you could very well be our best year yet.




so here. we. go.
:)

the true spirit of Christmas

mayhem.

if there's one word to describe our December, that's it.

Our Christmas to-do list scrolled so long

I wondered how we'd find the time to tackle the tasks in the double digits

when, as of December 17, I hadn't given thought to anything upwards of 7.

The closer we crept to the twenty-fifth, the more my attitude toward our countdown to Christmas turned from eager anticipation to an anxiety-induced apprehension.
Each night I'd lie awake in hopes that I might puzzle out the perfect way to do it all.
I had parties to plan.
Appearances to make.
Presents to buy, to wrap, and to take
in carry-ons much too small for my taste.
I had finals to finish and papers to write
and deadlines that all seemed just a little too tight.
And speaking of tight, let's take a look at my jeans.
Too bad time at the gym had become a thing of my dreams.
And in the midst of our biggest YW's event of the year--
when I needed, more than ever, to kick it into gear--
I got sick! so sick I couldn't even speak.
Try directing 90-plus kids when you can't make a peep,
and taking on a last minute Christmas lesson the same week.
I'd end each day at the bank with a sigh.
You'd never believe the lines in lobby and drive
or the many, many harsh and thankless replies
from those who'd had to wait maybe a minute's time.


Yes.  
This is what crossed my mind each night I'd tuck into bed.
Falling asleep soon felt like the luxury of a long-remembered dream.
And as much as I hate to admit it, it took its toll on me.
exhausted.
That's what I got for pairing long days with short sleep cycles.
And by golly!  
Let me tell you.
When bad news finds you while you're in that place
you'll feel like your world's fallen to pieces,
and that there's not a soul on earth who can help you put it back together.


Which takes me to Thursday night.
The eve of Christmas Eve.
It'd been one of those days.
Nonstop work
on little-to-no sleep,
and a million-and-one errands to run before the following day's flight.


Initially I'd planned to take a break from it all with a quick visit to the temple.
We'd gone every night that week as Parker's Christmas gift to his parents.
(Their Christmas wish for the last two years has simply been that we kids give the gift of selfless service.  We each write a letter detailing what we did and send it their way in lieu of gifts.  
That's the plan at least.  
We're still working out the kinks
a.k.a. trying to convince the parentals to let us do both.
We love that Christmas is the one time of year we can really spoil you).


But of course, that night, work ran late.
Parker waited patiently for me like the good husband he is,
but by the time I made it home, I knew, if he didn't leave just then, he'd miss it altogether.
So I told him to go
and I watched him leave.
And bid goodbye to the brief moment of solace I'd looked forward to the whole day long.
My eyes welled up just a little as he walked out the door.
I so wished we could be going together.
But I knew, 
deep down, 
that my mind would have been elsewhere the entire time had I gone.


I had too much to do.
And to little time to do it.
"If I can just make it through tomorrow,"
I thought.
"I'll be home."


Home sweet home!
Less than twelve hours 'til I'd be there.
Less than twelve hours 'til I'd be footloose and fancy free,
laughing with family around our big bushy tree.
I could. not. wait.


And that's when it happened.
My Dad called to remind me to check-in.
My Mom and I talked over the itinerary.
"I swear the email I saw today said 3:15 Chels.  
Are you certain you booked the later flight?"


"I work until 3:15. 
 I've known I'd be working Christmas Eve since September.  
I'm certain Dad and I booked the 5:15."


"Huh...I must be losing my mind."


"Oh Mom. It's been gone for awhile.  
Not to worry.
Look how well you've managed life without it!"


Har. Har. Har.
I know...just read on and be grateful I'm not your child.


We chatted for a bit longer before I signed off to start focusing on my pack.
I had loads of laundry to work through
and 6 bags worth of presents and necessities to consolidate into just 2.
Leave it to Delta to charge you $25 per checked bag.
(Yes, I realize this is not just a Delta policy. 
I'm just a little bitter.
Justifiably so.)


In the midst of my wrestling match with bag #1's zipper, I hear my phone.
"Daddy! I am officially halfway packed!  You'd be so proud of my UPS-packing skills.  It's in the blood!"


"We doubled checked your flight Chels.  I guess they're consolidating flights because there's so few fliers this season. The 5:15 flight's nowhere to be found."


"What???"

Blood boiling. Heart racing.  
That I'm precariously close to a complete state of panic is evident by my emphasis on that last "t."
"I can't believe it...
I can't fix this.
Who switches your flight less than 12 hours before take-off?
There has to be something they can do."


"I'm sorry sweetie.  I've talked to three customer service reps on the phone now.  The 3:15's the only flight that will get you home to us tomorrow."


"I can't take it."


"There's no way?"


"There's no way. 
None I can see at least.
Half our teller line's already off for the holiday.
The other half's scheduled to work.
There's no one to take my place..."


"That's fine sweetie.  You need to do what's best for you.
We'll still get to see you over Christmas."


But we both know it won't be the same.

My family's Christmas Eve is our Christmas Day.
We open everything outside of our stockings
and love. every. minute.
I know that's a bit different than most homes.
It's a White tradition that just seemed to evolve and gain strength as the magic of Santa dearest diminished.
I chalk it up to having a UPS Dad.
We'd call him a million-and-one times on Christmas Eve night to see just when he'd be home.
He knew we hated guesstimates, so he complied with our pleas for a specific time,
and answered patiently when we'd call to inquire about his whereabouts if he went even a minute past his anticipated arrival.
And, of course, this all took place on his most stressful and hectic workday of the year.
He's a saint, I tell you.
And he's the reason Christmas Eve always felt like Christmas to me.
When Dad came home, it felt like Santa'd come too.
And I wouldn't trade those memories of him walking through the door for the world.
We know what it means to wait, dear friends,
even if it isn't overnight.
:)


In addition to our unique tradition, we had another special event to look forward to this Christmas Eve...

a very white Christmas in the lovely Lake Tahoe!
I'd been looking forward to it since the November night my Mom & I spent a solid 5-hours trying to coordinate a cabin rental over the phone.
Not only would it be an adventure and the picture of a wintry white Christmas,
it'd also be the first time all my extended family'd gathered to spend Christmas day together in years.


My Mom & Dad planned to take our little family up there Christmas Eve night to spend some time together before the crowds came
and, I assume, to take care of logistics.
It'd be the first time anyone'd set foot inside the rental.
And oh boy, were we in for a surprise!
Details on that to come...


Needless to say, with the swift click of the mouse, Delta'd deftly destroyed any hope of my spending the holidays at home.
Coming home Christmas day changed everything.
It meant a lonely Christmas Eve in our teeny tiny apartment,
a split Christmas for my family
(as someone would have to stay behind to await our Reno arrival),
and a pathetic and potentially hectic Christmas morning spent in the SLC airport.
Because, let's be honest.
By the time we touched down on the Tarmac Christmas would be long over.


It just didn't seem fair.


I quickly called my boss to explain the situation.
I'd convinced myself that he'd give me that last hour-and-a-half off when he heard my sob story.
What sort of Grinch would let 90 minutes be the difference between my making and missing the Christmas at home I'd blathered on about for the last three weeks?

My boss.
My boss the Grinch.
I understood why he said no.
I'd known he shouldn't make an exception.
I guess I just didn't understand why he wouldn't
He had two capable tellers,
a traffic forecast that indicated it'd be a very slow day,
and two-plus years of tellering experience.
He could very well jump in if the forecast failed us and lines started to snake out the front door.
But again,
he couldn't-wouldn't-shouldn't.
Whatever the reason.
And that left me with just two options.


1.  Convince a teller to come back from their vacation to cover.
or
2. Skip Christmas.


My boss wished me luck before saying goodbye.
I could hear the skepticism in his voice.
We both knew I faced an impossible task.
And as soon as the line had gone dead, 
a Fantasia of tears and the saddest of sobs broke the silence.


We have 6 tellers, including me.
Tellers 1 & 2 were set to work right alongside me.
Teller 3'd already left town.
Teller 4 seemed to be screening any and all work-related calls.
And Teller 5, well, she's the reason I'm even writing this post.
Her name is Shauna.


She's the top teller in the Mountain West Region,
a sales machine,
and one of the sweetest and most genuine people you'll ever meet.
Seems like a paradoxical personality right?
It kind of is.
But she pulls it off just perfectly.
She's the country bumpkin in the Christmas sweater whose just killing it at the black suit-and-tie, corporate Wells Fargo.
It's the neatest thing.


I often tell Shauna she's superwoman.
In addition to being a phenomenal teller,
she manages a WeightWatchers clinic,
oversees a rental property where the renters never pay,
makes dinner every night for her husband and three grown kids living at home,
and, for the last 6-plus months, has taken on the role of primary caretaker to a mother who's battling MERSA in a fight for her life.


She does it all well,
does it all willingly,
and,
here's the kicker,
does it all with a smile.


I've never once heard her complain.
She's an angel.
I knew that.
I just never thought she'd be my Christmas angel as well.


I called her before I'd talked to the rest of the team.
I tried to camouflage my tears as I told the story,
 but because she's a mom I'm nearly certain she saw right through my attempt at an unnaturally optimistic facade.


She decried Delta for their lack of notice and professionalism and asked that I please keep her posted on the other tellers' replies.
If no one else could cover me, she'd do it.
She just had to see if her sister could leave work early to take her mom to the ER for her blood test.


I pleaded with Shauna to disregard my request.
From what I understood, the week her sister took her first and final shift at the hospital she'd requested compensation to make up for the hours she'd be missing at work.
"Your mom comes first Shauna.  
If I'd known that visit was on the agenda I never, ever would have asked."


Despite my pleas, she still insisted I call her with an update.
I said I would.
But the update I planned to give was that I'd already switched my flight.
I couldn't-shouldn't-and wouldn't let Shauna do this for me.


I blew through the call tree in five minutes time.
No answer.
then
Can't.
Won't.
Wish I could.


Looks like we'll be spending Christmas alone,
I surmised as I tried to plink out my Dad's cell number through bleary eyes.
I pushed what looked like a green button, then raised the phone to my tear-stained cheek.


But it wasn't my dad.
"Chelsey!  I've been trying to get a hold of you.  My husband Rob's going to take mom to the hospital.  We're gettin' you home!"


Oh Shauna!
The person with the best reason to say no said yes...
said yes without even waiting to see if she was my last available option.

I protested, but she wouldn't have it.
"I'm staying whether you go or not.  And let's be honest, it'd make a heck of a lot more sense if I didn't stay for nothing!  
You're not missing Christmas Miss Chelsey.  I won't have it!"


And this time the tears came freely.
I couldn't tell her what it meant to me.
Couldn't tell her just what she'd done.


She shoo-shooed my compliments, side-stepped my thank yous, and skipped right by my promises to return the favor.
"All you need to do to make this worth my while is have a fantastic time with your family  and a very, Merry Christmas."


Parker walked through the door just a few minutes later and rushed over to hug his weepy mess of wife.
I could tell he thought I'd just reached my breaking point,
that the packing had sent me over the edge.
So I relayed the story.
Every detail.
And when I'd finished he pulled me back and said.
"Wow, that makes sense."

I pulled back and stared up at him with a quizzical look and asked that he explain.


"I didn't want to leave you home alone tonight.  
I wished I could stay here and help you.  
But every time I thought of changing my plans, I felt more strongly that I needed to go.  Nothing special happened there.  
It was just like any other night.
Except for a one thing.


As we waited to enter the small sealing room, a temple worker came to my side, squeezed my arm, and said,
'You'll be blessed for being here tonight.
And your wife...she'll be blessed too.
I just wanted you to know that.'


It's nothing special, I know.
But what once seemed so random now makes perfect sense."


He held me closer then, apologizing again for not having been there to help me puzzle it all out. 
But we both knew he'd done his part.
And I marveled, again, at how blessed I'd been to have found him.
My life's so much happier for having him in it.
As, I'm discovering, my holidays are too.


I learned a valuable lesson from the uncertainty of my Christmas that night.
I couldn't have cared less about the piles of gifts,
the twinkling tree,
or the cozy cabin nestled away in Lake Tahoe.
All I wanted that Christmas was my family.
And the only way I'd be able to find my way to them was through the willing sacrifice of another.
A gift they'd give freely, without any expectation of debts of be paid or favors to be gained.
A gift for which words of gratitude would never be enough.
A gift which would be treasured by the giver simply because of the joy it'd bring to another heart.

Does this sound like a gift given by one who has the true spirit of Christmas?
the true spirit of Christ?
I'd say so.
Because He gave us all an eternal gift that's very much the same.


The next day, after sneaking a little thank you gift into Shauna's teller station, I learned again the meaning of the spirit of Christmas and how it translates so perfectly into the 
spirit of Christ.


We work in a very affluent community.
I see accounts with balances 5, 6, and 7 digits long each and every day.
From what I'd heard of Christmas at the bank, it sounded to me like we'd be buried in holiday treats, sweets, and all sorts of fun eats from those loyal customers in our community.
I soon learned these were unrealistic expectations.
Tellers and bankers who'd worked in other areas were shocked to see that, as of Christmas Eve, we still had no candies, no cards, nor anything even remotely close to what they'd seen in their other areas.
Poorer areas, mind you.
Our branch manager even went so far as to try and pass off a box of homemade chocolates he'd bought from a fundraiser as a customer's sweet treat to the bank.
Yes, it was that sad.


Just around the time we'd uncovered the chocolate cover-up, a customer named Seth came into the bank.
Seth is a sweetheart.
He is absolutely kind.
He always goes out of his way to thank us
for things as simple as smiling
or printing a balance on his receipt.
"I hate to put you through all this trouble,"
he tells me that anytime I help him look up his account,
before depositing $20 cash here and $20 cash there
into accounts creeping precariously close to zero.
And then, you know what he does?
He thanks me again.
Do you know how many people never say thank you?
Do you know how many people expect me to look up their accounts, fill out their deposit slips, and decipher just exactly what they're looking to do from the pile of checks they've chucked in the drive-thru tube before rolling up their window and proceeding to glare at me every-other-second as if to indicate that waiting more than one minute's time for me to finish is just absolutely unsatisfactory customer service?
Seth is a breath of fresh air at the bank.
And he gave me reason to believe, once again, that the Spirit of Christ was still alive this Christmas.


Seth walked into the bank that Christmas Eve carrying a box of a dozen-plus Einstein's bagels,
plus two tubs of cream cheese,
napkins, knives, and all the odds and ends.
And said simply, 
"I only wish I could do more."


He didn't have any transactions he needed run,
didn't have any reason at all to be in the area.
No.
He made a special trip to the bench to say hi, thank you, and Merry Christmas.


The spirit hit me so strong in that moment, it took all my strength to keep my composure and steer clear of the tears.
But as I returned from delivering a message to our branch manager, I caught a full glimpse of Seth's ensemble.
And I lost it.


From what I knew of Seth's background, he'd moved here from Los Angeles to be with family, and, 
more specifically, 
to help take care of a family member who'd fallen ill.
Like all good tellers, we'd comment on the weather and we discovered,
on an especially cold December day, 
that Seth did not own a pair of pants.
At first we were shocked.
How on earth could someone survive the seasons in just shorts?
And that's when Seth politely reminded us that,
up to this point,
he'd lived in L.A.
We nodded our understanding and expressed our concern until he assured us that, when he'd saved enough, he'd invest in a good pair of pants to get him through the winter.
We talked that day of playing Secret Santa and creating a "pants fund" for our beloved Seth.
But that was all just talk.
An idea that, within minutes, was long forgotten.


I desperately wished that Christmas Eve, that I'd been the one to follow through.
As I walked back to my teller station to see the spoils he'd brought us, I saw Seth's pants.
But they weren't pants.
Not real pants at least.
They were make-shift pants;
a pair of shorts layered over a thin pair of dark grey sweats that barely covered his ankles.


I'm no expert on men's pants,
BUT,
I can confidently say that the money Seth used to buy us our breakfast of bagels could easily have covered the cost of a pair of pants.
I'm certain of it.
And it spoke volumes to me that this is the man who brought our branch a thank you.
Our branch's only thank you.


The posts to come will cover all our holiday adventures.
You'll see our families, our favorite gifts, our Christmas-card covered fridge,
and all those things that just scream Christmas.
But I wanted to make sure you saw this first
because outside of time spent with friends and family,
these are the experiences that made my Christmas.


I love this Gospel.
I love what it teaches me.
And I love my Savior
and those people who help me know Him.
Shauna and Seth helped me know Him this year.
I hope you'll make it a goal to help someone you know, know Him too.

"Giving, not getting, brings to full bloom the Christmas spirit.  Friends are remembered and God obeyed.  The spirit of Christmas illuminates the picture window of the soul, and we look out upon the world's busy life and become more interested in people than things.  To catch the real meaning of the spirit of Christmas, we need only to drop the last syllable and it becomes the Spirit of Christ."

--President Thomas S. Monson

Merry Christmas 2010

better late than never

so my new philosophy with this whole blogging business.

better late than never.

Parker would argue that's my philosophy on everything in life.

which is fair.

my personal clock is permanently set +5 +10  and +15 minutes behind 99% of the world population's time pieces.

this is not an excuse.  

it's a statement.  

and 2011's my year to perfect punctuality.  

so simmer down. 

we'll get there.

we may be late.

but we'll get there.

:)  

Anyway, my point...

I'm a little behind with my blogging.

Forgive me.

I know your google readers have been inundated with holiday resolutions, reflections, and updates galore.

so much so that any holiday-esque blog title give you a nearly cataclysmic internal nails-on-a-chalkboard sensation.

and I'm right with you there.

I get it.

But,

as I said, 

better late than never.

Because I know,

if I don't track back a bit and play catch-up now,

I'll let this go forever.

And what would that leave you?!

my guess...

far too much free time.

and who really has time for free time anyway?

hehehe...i'm kidding. i'm kidding. that's just for you Mom :)

So to keep this from becoming one of those January journals I'd always start and never finish because it so overwhelmed me to think of going back to write on the days I'd missed and absolutely sickened the perfectionist in me to think of just skipping to the present and starting there
I'm here to add fuel to the fire

and fill you in on our 

"White Christmas"

anything BUT "run of DeMille" New Year

(get it?! haha)

and everything in between.

ready. set. skim.