Merry Christmas

The best day of the year has come and gone again. The kids are all in bed, dreaming of sugar plums--or monsters-- or something like that!

 This Christmas for us has been quite different from any in the past. We are living out of boxes and in major transition. I feel a little lost without a home on Christmas, but all will be well. This I know because my Savior lives.

 What a sweet reminder this Christmas season--to know that he loves each and every one of us. His love is constant and unchanging--no matter where we may be in our lives. When the shepherds were told of the holy birth that first Christmas night, they wasted no time in seeking the Christ child. I wondered tonight, as I read the Christmas story--do I promptly seek the things that Christ would have me do?  I sometimes fall short, but I know on a daily basis, I am reminded of the need to seek him and do as he would have me do.

It is always sad to leave this season behind because the spirit of Christ is so real during the Christmas season.  Even in the hustle and bustle of the holidays, his light can be found everywhere. How grateful I am that he was born a precious baby, and died for each of us, that we might live with him again.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. May you be blessed by the gift of Christ this Christmas.

Love The Peacock Family

Grieving Process

Last night, after dark, we pulled into our little town home complex. As we drove through, Andrew pointed out the all the lights people had on their decks and front doors.

He quickly blurted out, "See Mom, Other people have lights at their house." And then he began to sob.

I asked him what was wrong--to which he couldn't reply. As his unexpected emotional meltdown continued, I was reminded of a very similar incident involving myself the first Christmas after my Father died.

My mother had taken many of our Christmas decorations to the shop to decorate. I became very irate that she was doing this, and broke down in a similar fashion. I wasn't really upset about her using the decorations, but the incident served as a "slap in the face" of what I would be missing this Christmas.

I guess the same happened for Andrew last night. Except his meltdown was caused because we no longer have any Christmas decorations to put up...and no house to put them up in. He has not lost a father, but he has lost everything he recognizes of a "home."

One of the great blessings I have learned from trials is not to judge another's trials as less than our own, or someone else's. I'm not great at this, but I feel I am now able to better recognize it.

I believe there is a misconception that the death of a loved one is the only trial in which we should feel true sorrow for others. It almost feels as though any other trial doesn't compare in magnitude, and is thus to be swept under the rug and ignored.

This is such a harmful way to treat others. Having experienced the death of a close loved one, I can attest that the trials my children have endured lately DO compare in magnitude to the death of a loved one. As do many other trials our fellow human beings suffer. The loss of employment, the loss of a pet, a divorce, financial ruin, loss of a pregnancy disappointment in loved ones decisions, loss of custody of a child, health challenges and disease--the list goes on and on.

I was grateful to be able to sit back last night, and allow Andrew the opportunity to grieve what he has lost. I was grateful to be able to connect to his feelings of loss and emptiness. And I sincerely hope the next time I see another suffering from a trial I don't understand, that I will remember how badly they may be hurting--and that I will serve as a supportive and understanding human being in their sorrow.

The "Tutu Lady"

I love it when my kids offer up free blackmail material.

Courtesy of his videographer-- "Bad Snow White." (Pictured below)

Deep Thoughts.

Today I  have been loved on multiple  occasions
"I hate you. "
"You're  the  worst Mom ever."
"I get made fun of because of you. "
"I don't  see  how  anybody likes you."
"I don't like  you. "
"You're  so mean."
"I don't care what you want-- I  don't care about  you. "

And to top it off, Colonel Mustard  locked me out of my room tonight. I had to share my toothbrush with one of my haters. And this floor in my girls' room is less than forgiving  on my overly tired body.

Some days I  wonder why I  don't  just walk away  from it all.

Oh, I  forgot--they'll  all want breakfast ready at 6am and they'll  have forgotten  all about  what the said to me today. Who will do it if I'm  not there???