Women Who Eat Chocolate

Jesus was born in a lowly stable, not in the finest hotel As I was sitting on my comfy couch yesterday afternoon, my thoughts were aswirl of what needs done before Christmas. My list was out and I was checking and adding things like a banshee. I have presents yet to buy, cookies to bake for two separate events, and a grocery list that is a mile long. I promised myself I wouldn’t get lost in the crowd of Christmas this year and instead of jogging on the fringes of it I almost lost myself in the middle of it. My kids wrote out their Christmas lists, as they do every year, in detail. Their lists are things they would love to have, but which my husband and I peruse and pick at will. Not everything can or ever will be bought – don’t we all have a list in the back of our minds of things we always wanted? Still, for some reason their lists started to blend together and make me go cross-eyed and unable to focus. What am I doing this year to be different? Or a better question, what am I doing...

Christmas is here. The lights are softly glowing in my home, inside and out, and sharing the glow of the tree is the best thing there is. I'm convicted this time of year, always, about what I haven't done. Have I made a difference in someone's life? Have I complained too much this year? Have I been hateful and full of bitterness? These quotes speak to me, and I wanted to share them with you: “You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.”  ~ John Bunyan “We only have what we give.”  ~ Isabelle Allende “No one has ever become poor by giving.” ~ Anne Frank “No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another.”  ~ Charles Dickens “I don't want to live in the kind of world where we don't look out for each other. Not just the people that are close to us, but anybody who needs a helping hand. I cant change the way anybody else thinks, or what they choose to do, but I can do my bit.” ~ Charles de L...

Debating the “real”Christmas tree versus the artificial Christmas tree It’s 5:30 A.M. and I’m sitting here quietly surveying my household. A cup of java is steaming in my hand and I can see the fog is heavy outside this morning. Christmas paraphernalia is spread out all over my table and the lights of our tree are visible in the living room after being darkened for the night. I feel cheery and warm this drizzly morning. We are “real” tree people. I grew up in a household that always had a fresh pine tree to decorate. The smell would permeate the house as the fiasco with the bottom branches was evened out, and the tree was finally nestled into its home in the metal base. Décor from homemade crafts, school projects, and vintage balls were hung with care on intertwining branches and a star found its home at the top of the tree. I carried that tradition into my marriage and every year of our twenty-three married Christmases together have seen a real pine tree ensconced in our livin...

Why I would rather eat a doughnut at home than go out on Black Friday I’ve written before on my distaste for early Christmas shopping. I’m literally still back in October basking in the leaves and pumpkins. Though I have to take away some props from my two teenagers at home who NEVER DID carve those pumpkins I bought for jack-o’-lanterns. Blah, blah, blah I’m too busy – I’ll do it tomorrow. It’s a sad day for the orange globes who now sit on my porch gathering a coat of frost and no eyes to see it with. Imagine if I would tell them I have been too busy to go Christmas shopping? It would be Armageddon part duex. How I wish I could have meticulous lists categorized by size and color, likes and dislikes, what I can afford and what I can’t. We did exchange names for the family exchange on Christmas Eve, but those seem easier to go pick up. The older my kids get the harder they are to buy for. I don’t want to succumb to the perils of all gift cards. I feel like it takes away from the pers...

Election Day, party lines, and words that cut like a knife I am a bit tired of this Presidential election and all of the things that go along with it. I hesitate to even write a column on it because of the animosity, hatred, and outright vile things I’ve seen and heard firsthand. It’s an election where you get raked over the coals for even saying two words to someone. It’s been more than I have ever seen and I’ve been around/voted for a few elections - my eighth Presidential election to be exact. I try to stay informed, keep my eyes open, and not run a tight party line. When you walk that tightrope your eyes never see anything outside your small world. When I was younger, I would ask my Dad or Mom this question: Who are we voting for this election? The answer was the way I voted – no question. I’ve come a bit farther than that now, and I will tell you that the children of this great land are growing up in a country that is much different even than when I was in school. I am quick to ...

New blog post on The Bargain Hunter .  Do you like being alone sometimes?   When was the last time you met yourself? I love being alone. I love the sound of the house settling around me, while I sit in silence either reading or writing. I must have been born with the self-reliance gene times 10, because if I don’t get my alone time I start to climb the walls. I have friends who, knowing they have alone time coming up, will start making calls to fill up those spaces - those pockets of time where the silence will meet them.  They can’t face it. For me, it’s where I meet myself and say, “Missy, there you are. How have you been?” Too often we forget who we are, what we believe in, or what we used to be. We fill up our lives doing so much for others, or being so involved in our friend’s lives that we don’t look inside. I like who I’ve evolved into – I’ve met myself a lot over the years and know who I am. Although, without those moments of silence and alone time, I never w...

Originally found on my blog on  The Holmes County Bargain Hunte r.  The spaces in-between There are spaces in a house that no one thinks about.  That awkward nook going up the stairs, the corner with the rocking chair that we throw coats or gym bags on, and that space between the washer and dryer that leads to the bathroom.  We pass through these spaces every day and don’t give them a thought.  Yet these places are where the most information passes.  These places are where I meet my kids. What I mean are those soft landing pads – the ones that absorb tears and make me pause and give my thoughts and concerns to whatever is going on in their lives.  The kitchen counters are a well-made place to sit on and talk until the wee hours.  I’ve had many a child and their friend talk to me about the cares of the world from this perch.  Three, sometimes four young bodies draped on my counters beside the crock full of utensils and spatulas, discussing...

The Art of making a sandwich I wish I could shirk every duty I have and just go to the beach.  It’s too bad my middle name is responsible, or this sentence would trail off into nothingness and all you would see are tire marks heading south.  I’m a pretty big homebody.  I love to be at home puttering around, doing laundry (Yes.), and folding said laundry.  For some reason, it gives me satisfaction to watch the creases smoothed out in that wrinkly towel, fold it in thirds, and stack neatly with its towel-mates.   Must be my semi-OCD rearing its ugly head? Maybe what I’m tired of is the routine.  Get up, make coffee, drive to work, drive home, make supper, talk to my kids, talk to George, go to bed.  I love the “kids and George” part of that scenario, but the word mundane comes to mind.  I believe this is where people get tired and do dumb things in their lives.  They begin to believe that there is nothing more for them than the everyda...

There have been many incidents over the years that have caused this blog to be written.  Two have happened in the last two weeks.  We need to wake up and see how our words affect people and how they sound.  I thank the Bargain Hunter for giving me a voice. Let a child give their opinion and the wolves are waiting to pounce Does being an adult mean we deserve respect?  Or does it ultimately have to be earned?   I’m pondering this notion on a hot, sticky July afternoon and I don’t like what I’m discovering.  I grew up in a home that taught respect, but not the kind of home where you had to be quiet as a mouse.  I’m one of five sisters and a brother and we’re known for all having big opinions.    Really.  Very large and loud opinions.   We sometimes have to shout to be heard at family gatherings.  We don’t often get into fights, in fact, I don’t really remember many fights at all.  There was the typical teenage ...

My most recent column on The Bargain Hunter .  Can someone please hide my laptop for a week?  Carving out time and getting away from the computer I have lots of thoughts to write about this July 4th weekend. None of them have come together into a remotely cohesive train of thought. Should I write about how I threw a double baby shower on a dime? Or should I let you all know how I would like to rip Verizon Wireless because they keep adding hidden charges to my account? Maybe I should write about that great deal I got on toilet paper…. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I’m just not feeling any of those things today. What I have on my mind scraping the inside of my skull is one word: TIME That’s it - no punctuation after it or anything because it stands on its own. I’m sitting here typing trying to figure out where I can buy more time, or just do more with the time I do have. Have you ever sat at your computer fiddling around with Pinterest, playing Words with Friends (although my ki...

Reminiscing a bit on our time spent in New York City at The Menno House .  It was a time of service, but also for rejuvenation and reconnection.  As follows is my new blog on The Bargain Hunter about what we did, accomplished, and felt after it was done. New York City and The Menno House on my mind When Bruce Hummel asked George and I to go on a mission trip to paint at The Menno House in New York City, I hesitated.  Can I take off work? Can we leave the kids alone for a week? All the what if’s ran through my brain.  We huddled and finally said yes – and was it ever the right choice.  We left on a Sunday morning at 5 a.m., fresh off hours of serving/decorating at Hiland’s prom.  Bruce, Anne, George, my niece Heather, and I piled in and off we went on a wild ride to New York City.  We slept most of the way, stopped for donuts, and kept on trucking, arrivin...