the christmas letter

Here I sit again, administering the ACT test with nothing but my thoughts, a pencil, and five hours to kill. (I mean, I'm wearing clothes, I didn't mean to imply that I wasn't.) Last year, if you recall, I proctored in an English classroom where the walls were covered with quotations, which I wittingly incorporated into my Christmas letter. This year I'm in the Latin room, and since I'm not sure how to incorporate the "Animal Words From Latin" into my yearly recap, I will instead read the wise words on my Kombucha bottle:

"What love is to like, freedom is to the soul."

I'm sorry, but I don't get it. (And am now having flashbacks to those tricky test questions: waffle is to oil change, as jealousy is to ?.) I glance at my bottle again, and notice it actually reads, "What love is to life...." Now that I can work with. (In other news, I may need reading glasses, and I definitely need to kick my $3 kombucha-a-day habit.)

Love and freedom. Maybe that's what we're all in search of.

Kate and Elia have begun their yo-yo'd path to ultimate freedom, and are

getting ever closer to the day they turn 18 and I push them--er, launch them off the cliff into independence. (Though I have a feeling Elia will take me down with her.)

Kate will be a teenager in four months. I simply touch her leg at 6:30 each

morning and my work with her is mostly over for the day (so I head back to

bed). Kate still greets us with an excited "Hi!" every time she sees us in the living room--even if she just saw us one minute earlier in the kitchen, and she still tells us she loves us several times a day. Once she came home after being dropped off by her friend's dad and said, "I think I just told Mr. Ryden I love him!" Last month Kate began playing violin with the Holland Junior Strings, she listens to a respectable amount of music, loves learning new dance routines, enjoys her friends, and is sweet, even through the occasional fits of hormonal tears (to which I unwittingly and inevitably say something "insensitive"). Kate and her dad never butt heads, because they both share an aptitude for incessant greetings and relentless questioning. And, apparently, a great appreciation for one Mr. Ryden.

Elia, after visiting her newest cousin* in the hospital, announced that she either wants to be an actress

or a nurse. Or act like a nurse. She promptly began a list of expenses she'll have upon graduation (scrubs, stethoscope, etc.) and calculated how much she'll have to spend on an "average house in Holland." Elia is, apparently, a planner. She sometimes likes to get her backpack and lunch ready at night and then sleeps with her onesie pajamas over her clothes so she can pop out of bed and be ready for school in no time flat. Elia has a keen ability to impersonate people in a very humorous way but also with just enough truthful bite to keep us careful. She loves to tinker in the kitchen, prepare tea for people, and surprise me by quarterly purging all her earthly belongings. Elia said she may have accidentally made some other kids look bad because recently when Santa asked what she wanted for Christmas, she said she just wanted to bring cookies and coloring crafts to kids in the homeless shelter. (True, though in full disclosure, she asked everyone else for some cash.) She still wants us to adopt a baby, and successfully begged her way into us getting a dog. (Lesson to be learned, kids, begging works!)

Speaking of, I took Stella Rae (our puppy) out at 7 this morning, and watched as she made a zig-zag trail through the snow for about five minutes as she searched out the perfect place to pee. (She is not, however, nearly as picky with where she pees inside.) When walking her the other night, we came across another Stella dog (who our Stella promptly submitted to by

lying on her back), and as we walked away, Elia said, "We should have asked what their Stella's middle name is!" I of course explained to Elia that not everyone gives their pets full Christian names because, well, they're normal. When Stella is excited, her tail shakes her whole body, and when she's tired, she can fall asleep sitting up. For all the accidents we've cleaned up off the floor, and all the early morning wake-up calls in the cold outside (that Greg has to make), I must admit that Stella is one of our best purchases hands-down. She keeps us active, loves car rides, and is the most adorable, furry nap-partner ever (sorry Greg).

Molly Ann (the cat) is still alive and well, and allows us to pet her from time to time. She has come to terms with the ever joyful Stella, but will not acknowledge her except to poke her on the head a few times if she feels Stella is being annoying (or just sitting there). I realize we knowingly did this to ourselves, but about once a week I'll exclaim, "Where did all of these animals come from?!"

I'm not sure you've heard, but we have two teenage Chinese girls living with us this school year. Catherine and Anny are freshmen at Greg's school, and it's going relatively well, despite the fact that the female-male ratio has risen to an all-time high of 7:1.

Now, about that one, (one in a million, am I right?) Greg is currently teaching a chemistry class along with his regular communications and film classes. One might say he's "out of his element" (I told him to say that on his first day, but he

didn't). Greg and I are in a writers' group with a couple friends, and this has inspired Greg to dust off a screenplay he started a few years ago, and he's working to finish it this year. It's about a cactus in Texas, but that's all I can legally tell you. Greg is way better at story than I am. And poetry. And patience. The other day I incredulously asked him, "Doesn't anyone annoy you?" and he said, "With very few exceptions, no." But he was looking right at me in a way that makes me wonder just who these exceptions are. Ah well, no harm no foul.

Last Sunday morning we were sitting in church, the faint stench of rotting wood still drifting off my face (I'd mistakingly put manuka oil instead of caster oil on my eyelashes the night before). I suddenly was aware of the fact that the pews are chuck-full of proud grandparents there to view the Sunday School program (which I'd assumed was a five-minute thing, so I hadn't bothered to mention it to anyone). I looked up to see Elia, wearing her Christmas best--a red velvet dress with white trim over her favorite patterned sweats and old gray sneakers. After Elia's flawless solo, the singing voice of God filled the sanctuary: it was Greg (not really God) singing the lead: "I the Lord of sea and sky / I have heard my people cry." The children, who at this point were costumed as angels, cows, and shepherds, sang back to God, "Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?" Jesus was placed in the manger, five-year-olds held up stars, and there was a glow of white lights all around. It was at this point in the program, I believe, that I turned to Kate and whispered, "Your grandparents can never know about this." Kate nodded solemnly in agreement.

I've bit the bullet this year and bought myself something I've always wanted--a 5x enlarging hand-held mirror so I can more accurately see my flaws. I must say, it is the most fascinating and horrifyingly useful tool I've purchased as of late. And Honey, once it's seen it can't be unseen. Sometimes I feel like this year has been me looking at an enlarging mirror of humankind, and I've been mostly horrified. I wish I could unsee and un-know a lot of things, but just because you don't see a few wrinkles and some stray hairs that need plucking doesn't mean they're not there, am I right?

Love and freedom. Even though we all want it, we don't all see eye to eye on how this works, and so we think that we're the most deserving of them both.

I thank God that I already know that baby in the manger because He is our only hope.

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Galatians 5:13-14

Merry Christmas! And remember...Kate loves you!

Greg, Sarah, Kate, Elia, Molly & Stella Schemper

*I'm proud to introduce my goddaughter, Ayla Schemper! (Greg's youngest brother, Paul, and his wife Alli's third child.) And if you look closely at Elia in the background, you may catch the moment she realizes, "So if I'm a nurse, I get to watch TV while I work?!"