Christmas with the Kerrs

I feel I should explain why I'm publishing two seperate posts within an hour of each other. These following paragraphs were originally going to be attached to the bottom of the previous post, but I decided that that would make the post too long. Also, I figured the moods of the posts were different enough that they warranted separate postings (goodness, how many times can I use variants of the word "post" in a paragraph?). Either way, I figured I should publish something concerning the events of my Christmas day, so here we go.

I've often heard that "Christmas in the northwest is a gift God wrapped in green." Well, this year He decided to go a little more monochromatic (maybe He was trying to save on wrapping paper, but I don't know). As a result, I officially experienced my first (to my recollection anyways) white Christmas...ever. It only took about nineteen years and probably would have been more awe-inspiring about a decade ago when I wasn't as concerned with the condition of the roads, but I thoroughly enjoyed it none the less.

Christmas Eve night, the four of us (Mom, Dad, Jadon, and myself) did the traditional Christmas Eve program despite our smaller-than-average numbers (with all the siblings, spouses, and grandchildren, we usually have a group of around 22 people, so four is a ridiculously small number in comparison). We told the story of the nativity, sang Christmas hymns, and even did a little pajama hunt. Afterwards, at my dad's request, we watched Mr. Kruger's Christmas starring James Stewart. Despite its great message and happy ending, that movie always makes me sad (why won't anyone wish him a "Merry Christmas" back and why won't the carolers stay and drink hot chocolate with him?!?). Anyways, Jenni, Dane, Nyah, and Aislynne arrived shortly afterwards and spent the night so they were here to celebrate Christmas morning with us. After the traditional Christmas breakfast and opening of presents, we had a great day lounging around the house in our Christmas pajamas. In the afternoon, Dane and I played Guitar Hero (a Christmas gift from my parents to “the family”) and then we all watched Fred Claus (one of my Christmas gifts and an awesome movie by the way. I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it). Throughout the course of the day, I also got to speak to Jeremy, TJ, Katie, Jon, Tara, Adalyn, Kelli, and Kassie, so that just made an already great Christmas even better. It was so nice to be home and to get to spend the holiday with family.

Merry Christ's Mass

I know the cliché of the season is to redirect attention from the gift receiving and focus it on the gift giving and other religious aspects, but bear with me (I have a few thoughts and what is the purpose of a blog if not to share them?).

Last year in my theatre history class, I discovered the origin of the term 'Christmas'. I had always realized that the key root word was Christ, but where the 'mas' part came from had always eluded me. Well, while studying medieval theatre (a time focused around religious works) I learned that Christmas was originally referred to as Christ's Mass in reference to the gathering of people for religious ceremonies, more specifically the nativity recreation, performed during the winter solstice.

Even though the holiday is coming to a close, I always think it's nice to use the final twilight hours to reflect on why these past few days were important in the first place. While the buzz fades and children calm, rather than fixating on the people who have been rude and harassed us this holiday season, remember the person we are suppose to be celebrating today and his sacrifice for us (and the sacrifice of His father). I know I've passed into the realm of corniness already and desperately need to step down from my soap box, but I would like to include the lyrics to one of my favorite Christmas hymns (the third and fourth verses more specifically).

'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day'

And in despair I bowed my head
"There is no peace on Earth," I said
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, good will to men”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep
"God is not dead nor doth he sleep
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on Earth, good will to men"

No place like home...

Apparently all the promises of updating my blog on a semi-regular basis were worth "diddly-squat" because this is the second time I that went for a month in between posts. I blame it on my frantic life the last few weeks. O well, better late then never.

Finals ended yesterday, and I could not be more relieved. Honestly, I was ready for the semester to be over half way through September (which is never a good sign). It's hard for me to stay motivated when all of my classes are general requirements, have nothing to go with my major, and aren't extremely fascinating in the first place. Don't get me wrong, I love learning new things (it makes me feel accomplished), but there are days when I'd much rather stay in bed. At the beginning of finals, my roommate and I were discussing how attitudes change as the semester progresses. At the beginning, everyone is gun-ho, has a great attitude, and constantly talks about how this is going to be their best semester yet; they'll work hard and get +100% in all their classes. By the end of the semester, however, you see students, all of whom have dark circles under their eyes, walking across campus with their heads down and arms overflowing with thick textbooks (and I swear I saw one guy actually crying). The motto of choice among students changes from "I'm going to do my absolute best" to "I just want to pass the class and get it over and done with." College just does that to you I guess. Anyways, like I said before, I'm glad that finals are over, but I can't stop worrying about how I did and whether or not I'll get a satisfactory grade. I keep reviewing the week's assignments in my head (two tests and four papers which collectively equaled a total of thirty-five pages) and obsessing over what I could have and should have done differently to improve my scores. It's a good thing that I'm now home and have family to distract me.

The drive home was pretty exciting as well. My sister, Kassie, and her husband are moving to Seattle over the Christmas break, so I drove with her from Utah to Washington. It's been snowing in both states (and pretty much every state in between) the last few days, however, so my mom convinced my dad to fly to Utah and drive with my sister and myself back home (the poor guy ended up driving us the whole way despite our intention to switch off). We left Friday around one in the afternoon and made it home around two in the afternoon on Saturday. Luckily, the roads weren't too bad (despite the snow) and we thoroughly enjoyed our time together. Before we realized Dad would be joining us, Kassie and I had made plans to listen to music and sing along the whole way home. Not willing to part from the original plan, we simply informed Dad that he would have to put up with it. So, while driving through the mountain passes, we listened to the Carpenters, Christmas in the Northwest, and various Muse songs. Dad was such a trooper, and I secretly think he enjoyed it. I even got him to sing along with me and Kassie on a few Elvis songs. When we weren't listening to/singing along with music, Kassie read John Grisham's "The Summons" out loud to Dad and a sometimes conscious Karma (Kassie has a very soothing voice). I recommend it to anyone looking for a good book.

Anyways, I apologize for verbally vomiting all over the page. It really is amazing how therapeutic blogging is. I really should do it more often. Anyways, the long anticipated moral of the story is simply this: "It's good to be home."