Veruca Salt

"If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" -Mt 7:11

A friend of mine recently said, "You can't get what you don't ask for." And I thought Oh, how selfish, but then it made sense as I took off my martyr's hat and thought of what it is I really want. I want the love of Christ to fill my children's hearts and wisdom for the whole lot of us. I want our family to wake up with joyful hearts, passionate about something worthy, compassion for others and determination for those days when we don't wake up all yippy skippy that we can make the adjustment for ourselves or at least those around us.

I woke up this morning missing Dad terribly. Not something that happens without deliberate thought really. It's that time of year I suppose. Birthdays and Christmas are bound to get me teary now and then. See, I come from a long line of love language gifters. When words were absent there was a present. I'm redoing my childhood dollhouse for Reagan for Christmas and I remember playing with it as a child; arranging the furniture, trying to fit Barbie up the skinny stairs, loving that I had a real haltree regardless of the absent coats and hats. It even had a porcelain toilet and tub. Some of the pieces still exist so I know there's much more fun to be had with it for Reagan.

Dad loved this time of year. Time with his family and time to, even if it wasn't in the budget, spoil those he loved. I was a spoiled only child and he loved throwing me up in the air, seeing if I was "boy crazy", finding the perfect leather coat for me in high school, and banana-seated yellow first bike when I was five. He loved playing with the kids. No matter where we were, company picnic or family reunion, they came to him. He really made them laugh with silly tricks like I stole your nose, squirting water through his hands in the pool at my aunts, "Why are you hitting yourself" while he took you hands and bopped ya...silly stuff I know, but while the adults were otherwise busy, Dad was usually with the kids doing something.

Grandpa Pete was the same way. He paid my cousin and I silver dollars for sweeping out his workshop/garage or gave us pop guns to play cowboys and indians. He read us the story of Goldilocks and the three beers (for real) and made us laugh even though I don't think we knew what we were laughing at. He took us kite flying in the lot across from his house, set up lemonade stands for us and always had something special in the candy/gum jar. At my cousin's baseball games, he'd award kids with quarters if they got a hit...I think that's hilarious, a little bit on the bribery side, but I'm sure it worked. He taught us how to make a hook-shot like Kareem Abdul Jabar on the goal at their antique shop. Marty got it down pat. I didn't so much but tried. He taught us how to play penny poker with is brown plastic barrel of coins we loved sorting, counting and cleaning. On demand, he could draw a picture of Popeye with his felt pen. I was once told he had a genius IQ, always thinking of inventions even one for special needs kids to have a way to play ball. Of course there was Christmas. Well, every day was like Christmas at Grandpas especially, much to Grandma's dismay, when he would take us to Walmart and have a shopping spree. On Christmas, we would gather at their house all thirteen of us in a 900 sq. ft. house cozy and loving being together. Marty and I would come out of there with more loot than we knew what to do with. Love loot! Even in his final days he would often request donuts and sweet rolls. It made me smile to accomodate his sweet tooth after all the chocolates, pineapple juice and "vampire blood" (ie grape juice) we had at his house.

I've resorted that I've always been a little behind on the maturity scale. In my own words to Justin, "I have a long way to go still" in forgiving myself of my past or not loving those that love me whole-heartedly. I miss Dad and Grandma and Grandpa so much this time of year for all the love they gave me no matter what I was wanting for myself greedily. Even in Grandmas personal diary she could've written so much about the trials I was putting them through, never once did she say, "Oh that Nikki, she's done it again." That's the kind of love I know I have for my own family-and for those I don't know. Ask Justin I'm always playing the devil's advocate for the judgements made on others. "They are someone's child!"

So when I say my Christmas prayer I am going to resort to my own childlike ways and be selfish. Asking that He, our Savior born on Christmas day (or thereabouts), fill us with grace, wisdom and joy for each day knowing it is only through Him that our cups can overflow! I'll pray that my family overflow to those that have none, those that aren't joyful and change their hearts one by one loving them unconditionally as I was loved.

"I want it now and I want it all" Veruca Salt