days like this.

i always want to remember days like this.

when you wake us up with giggles because the sky is full of snow.  i put the coffee on and sleepily gaze out the kitchen window, while you're calling for me from the living room, begging for me to come play with you.

on days like this, we sit, snuggled in mounds of blankets.  we eat special breakfasts, dusted with powdered sugar.  with maple syrup warmed in little pitcher shaped like an owl.  and lit candles all over the house.

on days like this, daddy and i get you bundled up, and it takes what seems like a million years.  you take two steps outside and fall immediately onto your backs to make angels in the snow.  we trudge through the backyard and lay under the big pine trees, powdered with white, drinking in the silence. you throw fistfuls of snow into the sky and it sprinkles down on you, dusting your eyelashes and the tip of your noses.

i love watching you.

on days like this, everything moves in slow motion.  you drink mugfuls of hot chocolate, cheeks chilled pink.  we play games, watch movies and lay, snuggled in blankets.  you climb on daddy and i watch thinking i never want to forget the sound of your laughter.  you dance through the living room and i listen to you play with your dolls and string beaded necklaces.

and my heart aches because i already miss days like this.  and my heart is happy because i'm grateful we have them.

our christmas in pictures.

my girls on christmas eve

sneaking cookies...

christmas eve service at church

our home

before putting the little ones to bed...

christmas eve appetizers

my dad always left one candle lit in the window all night "for jesus"

stockings and gifts

dance studio and ballerina dolls

christmas morning

opening stockings

daddy's stocking

gifts

dolls with a car and rv camper

table set for breakfast

my girls christmas morning

christmas plates

cousins and their new dollies

so thankful for the reminder that hope was born for us.  our lives are forever changed not because of what's under the tree, or the joy of the season... but because of the eternal gift that was given to us when jesus was born in a stable so many years ago.

"fear not, for behold i bring you GOOD news of GREAT JOY that shall be for all people.  for unto you is born this day, a savior, which is Christ the Lord."

Luke 2:10-11

what's for your sweet tooth {grandma cornwell's sugar cookies}.

i'm such a stickler for traditions.  especially at christmastime.  i love making memories with my girls and there's actually a lot of research that points to families who engage in traditions create more feelings of security and safety for their children.

bam.

i grew up in the most tradition-ing-est family maybe ever known on earth.  we did the same thing every holiday right down to chex mix at christmastime, eating at a fancy local restaurant every easter sunday and salmon and egg gravy every fourth of july (i'm thirty four years old and i still have no idea what egg gravy is, but apparently it's an independence day must have for new englanders in my grandparents generation...and for the record, i never ate it).  it's so important to me to pass on family traditions, memories and history to my sweet girls and weave them together with some of our own original ones too.

my husband had the best grandmother.  i only had the privilege of knowing her for a few years before she passed, but she was the kindest and most generous woman, who was the rock of the entire family.  she grew up in harsh minnesota winters and raised five children all on her own in the sweltering texas heat.  her house always felt like home, even to me, one who was from the outside coming in.  she made everyone feel welcomed and cared for, and food was a big part of how she loved (my kind of woman).

and.  she made the BEST frosted sugar cookies.  nick has so many memories of them being at every holiday, and eating them until his stomach ached.  i don't know how many batches of those cookies she must have made in her lifetime, but every one of them was baked with love.  when we first got married, i decided i wanted to intertwine her cookie-making-and-loving-with-food legacy into our family and started making these cookies every year... first just nick & i, and then with our girls.

and they are delicious.

here is the recipe.

grandma cornwell's frosted sugar cookies

* 1 c. shortening

* 2 c. white sugar

* 2 eggs

* 2 t. vanilla 

* 1 c. sour cream

* 6 c. flour

* 2 t. baking soda

* 1 t. salt

- cream together first four ingredients.  

- add sour cream.

- add dry ingredients in a separate bowl, slowly add into creamed mixture until just combined.

- roll out and cut, bake at 350 for about 10-12 minutes depending on size and thickness.  Cool before frosting.

Frosting: melt 1 1/2 sticks of butter, add a 2 lb. bag of powdered sugar and 2 or 3 teaspoons of vanilla.  Add enough milk to make it the desired consistency.  I separated into several batches to color and let the kids go crazy ;)

we miss grandma cornwell... so thankful we can keep her memory alive in the generations of cornwells to come.  i can still taste her love in each bite of these cookies.

enjoy!

home.

{photo source: chris olmstead photography}

ever since i was in college, hearing the song "i'll be home for christmas" just lit me up inside.  being a young twenty something, i had spent many years living away, which for this homebody-family-loving-new-england-hearted girl, was--in and of itself--a miracle.  wherever i was, the days leading up to christmas always meant one thing.  soon, i would be on an airplane, headed to one place..the place i loved: home.

i can still remember the excitement i felt as i peered out the small airplane windows and first caught sight of the sleepy maine villages, blanketed in snow.  my stomach would be swirling with anticipation of seeing my family, eating my mom's cooking again and sleeping in my own bed.  familiarity.  comfort.  home.

upon landing, it felt like a million years as the passengers ahead of me slowly gathered their belongings and trickled down the aisle and into the airport.  i would whisk my bags as quickly as i could and scramble off the plane.  and always, the first face i saw stood high above the rest of the crowd waiting for their loved ones.  sparkling eyes and that familiar grin that i knew all of my life; my dad.  he would always break from the crowd to make sure he was the first to get to hug me.  and he would hold on and squeeze me until i could hardly breathe.  and that was when i first felt my shoulders relax and any stress melt away, in my dad's strong, hearty embrace.  home.

the first thing i would always do--always--the minute we got home was run upstairs and into my parents closet.  on the right hand side, my dad's side, i'd reach up on the top shelf and grab his oversized nike sweatshirt.  it was navy blue with a giant orange swoosh.  and wearing it just made me feel cozy.  and safe.  and at home.

my mom made the same treats every year: date filled cookies and powdered-sugar-dusted tea cakes.  red and white swirled candy cane cookies and jars of cheese spread.  my grandmother's peanut butter balls would be kept in the garage where they'd stay out of reach and nice and cold until christmas eve when my dad would finally let us all dig into them.  you, know: tradition.  the same decorations would be out every christmas; my mom's gold and red tree, white candles glowing in every window and her caroler dolls lining the mantle.  i would stop a minute and take it all in.  it had been this way since my childhood.  i loved it.  and my heart felt anchored.  home.

every christmas eve-eve, my sister and i would spend the night at my grammy and grampy's.  we would get in our pajamas and bundle up in blankets, giggling with excitement, as we drove around in their car looking at lights and counting all the christmas trees we saw.  we'd eventually coax them into getting us blizzards (which let's face it, it didn't take much coaxing), and we'd listen to their old christmas favorites crooned over the radio; mostly sung by perry como, as i remember.  even after we were married, we continued the tradition, even if it wasn't spending the night.  and even if we ended up doing the driving once they got too up in their years to see well at night.  that little christmas light tour in our pajamas with our grandparents meant christmas was just around the corner.  and i was home.

christmas eve, the family all gathered at our house before church.  we'd laugh and take pictures and eat lots of food.  when it came time, we all bundled up in coats over our christmas eve attire and head to church to sing amidst candlelight.  i can still hear my dad's deep bass voice, booming above the crowd. after church, we'd drive up dudley street, a little winding road that followed the river and was dotted with big old houses.  every year on christmas eve, they'd line the street with white luminaries and it was one of the prettiest sights i'd ever seen.  we'd come home and take several trips up and down the stairs, bringing all of the gifts down to put under the tree.  my dad would usually get out all of the gifts he'd bought for my mother and ask me and my sister to help him wrap because he was so terrible at it.  we'd complain and ask him why he didn't have us do it earlier, but we'd always do it for him because his wrapping really was terrible.  then we'd sit in our pajamas and drink christmas drink (ginger ale mixed with cranberry juice) and eat some snacks and enjoy being together.  christmas would come the next day with stockings and grandparents and exchanging gifts.  we'd each take turns watching everyone open their gift, and my sister would sit under the tree and hand them all out.  my aunt, uncle and cousins would come later and we'd gather around pots of fondue and play games.  eat more food, drink more christmas drink.  it was cozy and felt magical.  family.  traditions.  home.

i can't help but get a bit teary eyed now, reflecting upon these memories.  now, when i hear the song "i'll be home for christmas", instead of lighting up, my insides kind of ache all the way down to my toes.  for me, there is no "coming home" the way that there used to be.  without my dad, so much of that familiarity is gone.  it's been four years and it still hits me during the holidays... that "home" feeling, that familiarity, that coziness just isn't the same.

there are new traditions and moments of joy for sure.  perhaps some of that would be different anyway, because now i'm grown up.  i'm married, and i have kids of my own.  still, i can't help but think that i can never go back.  i can never go back to my mom's and dad's home, and feel that filled up feeling again.  and some days that is very, very hard.  it causes me to reflect on that safe, secure, settled feeling of "home", and that someday, i will have that again... in the most fulfilled, ultimate way, just as god intended.  i will leave this earth and there will be no more tears, no more crying, no more pain.  no more longing for home.

but until then, we'll continue on... making most of the moments we have... even if they ache, even if they're tearful.  and i'll spend however many years the lord allows me to have, making a place for my two little girls to look forward to coming back to, just as i did.  i want them to feel that same sense of warmth and security when someday they are grown and gone.  i want them to know that there will always be a place for them where they are loved, where they are safe and secure.  and tonight, on christmas eve-eve, nick and i will bundle them up in pajamas and blankets, and we'll take the christmas light tour and listen to old christmas music, maybe even some perry como.  we'll drink christmas drink and we'll head to church tomorrow night to sing amidst candlelight.

and i'll wear that oversized navy blue sweatshirt of my dad's with that bright orange swoosh.  and i'll feel wrapped up in memories of him that make me feel cozy and happy and right at home.

and we will make our own traditions too.  texas ones.  and sugar cookie decorating ones.  and ones shared with family and friends.  and, until we are truly home... may we make the most of our days.  may we love, make memories, find joy and experience peace...not just this season, but throughout the whole year.

"may the god of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope, by the power of the holy spirit." romans 15:13

merry christmas, dad.  miss you so terribly, but i know you're home.  

love you with all my heart,

meg

it's the most wonderful time of the year.

christmastime is our favorite... this december was filled to overflowing with lots of cozy moments, trips, family time and most of all wonderful memories of the warmest season.  

christmas festivities in augusta with the franks!

 annual christmas shopping trip to portland

bella's school christmas concert

trip to santa's village

bella's kindergarten class caroling at a local retirement home

christmas outreach luncheon at our church

the nutcracker

christmas cookie decorating

christmas light pajama drive

i LOVE this time of year.  merry christmas from our family to yours!