Christmas!

We finally got our decorations up! We were such "Scrooges" this year and almost didn't have a tree. :) I'm glad we did; I love it! The smell is incredible, and all the lights and ornaments bring back so many delicious memories. It may not look like one of those "perfect" trees in a magazine, but it's homey. Besides, a "Martha Stewart" tree wouldn't fit in our house, anyways. I think it would make people feel uncomfortable, and like they had to walk around on tiptoes so as not to "mess anything up." Our tree has personality, too! We've got a random, lonely strand of bubble lights, the ornaments are a bit worn, there's no tree topper; but it's very Weston-ish--just the way we like it! :)

Bringing in the tree. This picture looks so posed! Stephen's got that huge "picture smile" and Richard looks so cute ... ok, handsome. :) *Emily feels as if she is treading on very thin ice for calling Richard cute; then takes comfort in the fact that Richard never reads her blog, anyways* :D
I think this picture can pretty much speak for itself ... ;)
Dad watching the festivities. I think he learned many years ago to let the women do the decorating and to stay out of the way. :D
Stephen, however ... has things to learn. JK! He's very good about getting our finicky, electric train going, getting all the lights working, setting the tree up ... He's the best

technical-tree-decorator there is! :)

The finished product! What do you think?
Two edited versions.

This is just something that is kind of humorous and thought provoking ... :) You don't have to read it, either. :)

The Recital

Tension hangs in the air like Christmas garland, tied with red bows. Girls in stiff, holiday dresses run about with sheets of music, desperately trying to find a piano to go over their “magnum opus” one more time. The guys take a seemingly more relaxed approach. They joke with friends about how they got hogtied to play, while trying not to choke on the tie Mom put on. But for all, there’s that note of nervousness that clings to them like glitter on a wreath.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of last minute tuning, relatives stream in. There’s Grandma in her holiday sweater, jingle bells and sequins, with a hint of White Diamonds perfume. Then Grandpa, decked in last year’s Christmas vest that’s gotten a bit smaller over Thanksgiving. Of course, there are the Aunts with smiles and hugs for the nervous niece. And where there are Aunts there are usually Uncles. They all band together next to the food to sneak a few cookies beforehand and exchange thoughts on politics and barbecues.

Finally, all have been seated, and little Patsy begins to play “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” on her newly-acquired oboe. It’s a bit out of tune and a little long, but all are forgiving. By the fifth on the list, makeup has begun to melt, and ties are loosened. The programs are beginning to show a little wear—some crumpling, the cousin’s doodling. By the 15th person, and the third time hearing “Joy to the World,” people have begun to get a little restless. The clapping becomes louder, not because of achievement, but rather relief that there’s only one more hour to go.

Grandpa scratches out the second-to-last person on the program and breathes a sigh of relief. It’s been a long haul. They got to hear little Bobby, and now, for the grand finale.

All is quiet, except the rustle of programs and the cooing of a baby in the back as Jared makes his way to the front. Violin raised, he gently draws his bow over the strings. The music winds its way through the starry streets of Bethlehem to the Christ-Child’s manger. The mystery, the joy, the thrill of it all captures hearts. Melodies enchant, telling that awe-inspiring story once again. As the last note dies away, the audience erupts into heartfelt praise, not just for the ability, but for the Lord.

They all eventually make their way home, hearts brightened and their thoughts a bit deeper. They’ll be back next year, to listen to little Patsy and Bucky Blandings and hear praise to the Savior for His ultimate gift.