For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this. ~Isaiah 9:6-7

Today we brought home a Christmas tree. To most of America this is an unremarkable and expected ritual at this time of year. In some circles, however, putting a decorated tree in your living room in December is a controversial act.

Years ago, we went through some evangelical angst wondering if we were buying into a pagan tradition when we were buying presents to put under the tree. We certainly didn’t want to be associated with that jolly old elf who wore a red suit and wriggled down chimneys, just like that other deceptive creature who prowls about in scarlet and also hangs around warm places. I know that the “been there, done that” argument is not the way to win friends and influence people. I don’t say it (and yes, I did say it) to say that we’ve evolved to a higher level of understanding, but to say that I understand why some people do not participate in some or all of the festivities during this season.

[I]n this season and always, our song must be, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her King.” If we are evil spoken of by men, remember our Lord, and what He suffered, and the victory He won for us. Therefore, rejoice! ~R.J. Rushdoony

When we became reformed, we began to see some things through new eyes. One thing that initially drew us to this view of theology was its emphasis on the power of God and victory of Christ over not only our personal sin but over the entire world, past, present and future. The humility of Jesus in His birth as a baby is the manifestation of the deepest mystery with which mankind has ever grappled. Who can understand how such voluntary weakness could produce such triumphant power? The paradox of the thing not only makes me rejoice, it makes me giddy with glee. When I muse on strength in weakness, the foolish confounding the wise, the baby who brought salvation to the world, I can’t help but celebrate.

Don’t throw the baby Jesus out with the bathwater.

A Christmas wreath can be a pagan symbol of false religion, or a symbol of the eternity of God, he who is without beginning or end. The colors of Christmas are symbols of the blood (red) of Christ that washes away sin and grants eternal life (green) to those who believe…. Symbols can be used to glorify God or to further false religion. The key is relating all areas of life to the Lordship of Christ. ~Brian Abshire

I admit that there’s plenty of dirty bathwater hiding the baby. Many if not most people are not thinking of Christ’s incarnation when they gather around the tree on December 25. In fact, while I enjoy decorating our house and singing Christmas hymns, I don’t particularly like going shopping between Thanksgiving and New Year’s when the crowds are clamoring for more cheap stuff from China and the competition for the most elaborate display of conspicuous consumption is at it peak. But then my ear catches a snatch of a hymn of glorious praise coming from a store’s speakers: “He rules the world with truth and grace, and makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness, and wonders of His love.”

Things are given as presents which no mortal ever bought for himself — gaudy and useless gadgets, “novelties” because no one was ever fool enough to make their like before. Have we really no better use for materials and for human skill and time than to spend them all on this rubbish? ~C.S. Lewis

Despite the hissy fits the pagans throw about those inconvenient religious overtones during the “holiday season,” Christ still reigns and Christians still know what Christmas means. Some battles are worth fighting in the public realm, but I’m not too worried about making sure that children in government schools can say, “Merry Christmas” to one another or whether Lowe’s calls their evergreens “Christmas” trees or “holiday” trees. What does bother me is when Christians inflate the importance of that one day and neglect to honor the Lord’s Day every week. For example, Family Christian Stores, busy trying to keep Christ in Christmas by selling trinkets to the evangelical market this month, made a corporate decision to disregard one of the Ten Commandments by staying open on Sunday afternoons. Such priorities seem rather skewed. But the details of Sabbath-keeping are even more controversial than the specifics of how much Christmas is too much.

And that is why I embrace my friends who don’t celebrate Christmas, though we don’t agree on this. Some have rejected it as not acceptable according to the regulative principle of worship, others repudiate the rampant materialism they see. As we strive to bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, I applaud the convictions of those who thoughtfully work out their faith with fear and trembling. As for our family, though, with our German reformed roots, we will follow in the footsteps of Martin Luther and put twinkling lights on our Christmas tree as we join in the party which commemorates the incarnation of our Savior. It is a small picture of the time when every knee shall bow, every tongue confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, and the earth shall be covered with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the sea.

My heart is filled with gratitude to Almighty God for his unspeakable mercies with which He has blessed us in this day. For those He granted us from the beginning of life, and particularly for those He has vouchsafed us during the past year [of war]. What should have become of us without His crowning help and protection?

Oh, if our people would only recognize it and cease from self-boasting and adulation, how strong would be my belief in the final success and happiness to our country! But what a cruel thing is war; to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world!

I pray that on this day [Christmas] when only peace and good-will are preached to mankind, better thoughts may fill the hearts of our enemies and turn them to peace. ~Robert E. Lee

Further reading on the subject:
Let’s Keep Christmas Commercialized by David Chilton
In Defense of Christmas Trees by Pieter Friedrich

For Kendra:

There’s a chill in the air, here comes a storm—
Brew up a mocha, try to stay warm.
Browsing the shelves, let’s take a look:
It’s time to suggest another good book!

If the weather outside is frightful, what book is most delightful…to curl up with?

Carmon’s first suggestion: a Lord Peter Wimsey mystery by Dorothy Sayers.

In book tag, you can suggest a book in our chosen category, then you must wait for someone else to make a suggestion before you can be “It” again. Simple!

I’m a bit late in announcing this but there’s still time to nominate your favorite blogs for these awards…

Sallie of Two Talent Living is sponsoring the Blogs of Beauty Awards for the following categories (nominations close today at 8pm EST) :

Best Biblical Exhortation
Does the best job of bringing biblical truth and exhorting others to walk closely with the Lord Jesus. (Blog does not have to be exclusively a theological blog.)

Best Design – Contemporary
The most beautiful blog of a contemporary design.

Best Design – Traditional
The most beautiful blog of a non-contemporary design.

Best Discussion
Has the best discussions in the comments sections.

Best Encourager
Has the most encouraging blog content.

Best Frugality
Has the best content regarding frugality. (Blog does not have to be exclusively about frugality).

Best Homemaking
Has the best content regarding homemaking. (Blog does not have to be exclusively about homemaking.)

Best Homeschooling
Has the best content regarding homeschooling. (Blog does not have to be exclusively about homeschooling.)

Best Humor
Has the best humor.

Best Meet for a Mocha
The blogger you have never met and would most like to meet in person for a mocha.

Best Motherhood
Has the best content about being a mommy. (Blog does not have to be exclusively about motherhood.)

Best Quiet Spirit
Demonstrates a beautiful, quiet spirit through her blog entries.

Best Recipes
Has the best recipes. (Blog does not have to be exclusively about cooking.)

Best Variety
Has the most enjoyable variety of content.

You can just go through my sidebar and vote for your favorites in whichever categories you wish .

Also, Spunky is hosting the Homeschooling Blogger Awards. The nominations are to be left in the comments through December 11 and voting will take place from the 12th until Christmas. You may nominate blogs which are written by homeschoolers in he following categories (the blogs don’t have to be about homeschooling):

Best Homeschooling Mom Blog

Best Homeschooling Dad Blog

Best Homeschooling Family blog

Best Homeschooling Teen blog

Best Informational Homeschool blog

Best Inspirational Homeschool blog

Best Homeschooling Humor blog

Best Team / Group Homeschool Blog

Best Homeschool Curriculum / Business Blog

Best Homeschool Blog Design

Best Canadian Homeschool Blog

Best International Homeschool Blog

Best Current Events Homeschool Blog

Best Homeschool Arts Blog

Best Homeschool Photo Blog

On Thanksgiving Day, before our feast, we had a time to reflect on why we were gathered together with our friends and family. Here is the program (only four days late, Willena ):

A responsive reading of Psalm 136 (Daddy)
Prayer (Dewey)
Hymn story (Gracie)
Singing of “We Gather Together” (middle mini muffin on piano)
Reading of Thanksgiving paper (youngest mini muffin)
Reading of George Washington’s Thanksgiving Proclamation (Pieter)
Reading of Mayflower Compact (Ben)
Stories of life in Communist Romania (Alex)
Recitation of “The First Thanksgiving of All” (prairie pups)
Singing of “Old Hundredth”
Prayer (Daddy)

After pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie, gumdrop cake and coffee, we gathered together in the family room where the musical Harpainters aided our digestion with some lively tunes: first, Nathan on the bagpipes, then the girls with a string trio. Miss Pop then presented a beautiful rendition of the following poem, for which she recently won a prize in a recitation contest. The poem brought tears to my eyes, as I know that the choice the parents in it tried to make would also be impossible for me; each child in our family is precious beyond life to us and we know that giving one up would be heartrending.

Which?
by Mrs. E.L. Beers

Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
I looked at John—John looked at me;
Dear, patient John, who loves me yet
As well as though my locks were jet.
And when I found that I must speak,
My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
“Tell me again what Robert said!”
And then I, listening, bent my head.
“This is the letter:”

“‘I will give
A house and land while you shall live,
If, in return, from out your seven,
One child to me for aye is given.’”
I looked at John’s old garments worn,
I thought of all that John had borne
Of poverty, and work, and care,
Which I, though willing, could not share;
I thought of seven mouths to feed,
Of seven little children’s need,
And then of this.

“Come, John,” said I,
“We’ll choose among them as they lie
Asleep;” so, walking hand in hand,
Dear John and I surveyed our band.
First to the cradle light we stepped,
Where Lilian the baby slept,
A glory ‘gainst the pillow white.
Softly the father stooped to lay
His rough hand down in a loving way,
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said: “Not her!”

We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
And one long ray of lamplight shed
Athwart the boyish faces there,
In sleep so pitiful and fair;
I saw on Jamie’s rough, red cheek,
A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
“He’s but a baby, too,” said I,
And kissed him as we hurried by.

Pale, patient Robbie’s angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering’s trace:
“No, for a thousand crowns, not him,”
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.

Poor Dick! Bad Dick! Our wayward son,
Turbulent, reckless, idle one—
Could he be spared? “Nay, He who gave,
Bade us befriend him to the grave;
Only a mother’s heart can be
Patient enough for such as he;
And so,” said John, “I would not dare
To send him from her bedside prayer.”

Then stole we softly up above
And knelt by Mary, child of love.
“Perhaps for her ‘t would better be,”
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay
Across her cheek in a willful way,
And shook his head. “Nay, love, not thee,”
The while my heart beat audibly.

Only one more, our eldest lad,
Trusty and truthful, good and glad—
So like his father. “No, John, no—
I can not, will not let him go.”

And so we wrote in a courteous way,
We could not drive one child away.
And afterward, toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that which we dreamed;
Happy, in truth, that not one face
We missed from its accustomed place;
Thankful to work for all seven,
Trusting the rest to One in heaven!

If this was a newspaper and I had a cranky editor, he’d growl at me (through teeth clenching a smelly stogie), “We can’t publish that, Friedrich! It’s stale news! (*snarl*)”

But this is my own little domain, my personal publishing empire, so I can make unilateral editorial decrees that it shall be served stale and cold if I so desire, though I almost always serve it up with a warm smile on my face (what?—you don’t see the smile?)

I’ve been intending to write many things the past few days. Before Thanksgiving I wanted to share the program we planned for our Thanksgiving celebration, with most of our family and guests taking part. But instead of writing, I was busy preparing the feast for those special people who would be making merry with us on the following day.

After Thanksgiving I wanted to tell you all about the merry time we had, singing, laughing, eating, playing music, and listening to the amazing tales of our friend Alex who escaped from communist Romania after being imprisoned there for over three years, refusing to join the Communist party and renounce his faith. But instead of writing, I stayed up late enjoying my family and friends and making memories with them.

Though my spirit is willling my stamina is a bit weak, so I gratefully accepted the help of my mini muffins yesterday while I retired to the library with a book and a blanket to rest after the holiday hubbub. I have been fighting a throat thingy (I’m not sure what the Latin terminology is for this malady), so a quiet rest was Dr. Daddy’s prescription for the day. I managed a short snooze—or two—finished my book, and then found that a friend had called while I was sleeping. I thought about recapping the highlights of Thanksgiving Day for you, a day late. But instead of writing, I went to my friend’s house because when I returned her call I found that she was suffering a relapse of a serious medical problem and her husband needed to leave for work soon, leaving her home alone with her three little boys. That wouldn’t do, so middle mini muffin came to help and we spent the night with her and most of today, cooking, cleaning, and entertaining lively little munchkins.

Tonight I am ensconced in the customary writing haunt for this Prairie Muffin, at the customary blogging hour, but now neither the spirit nor the stamina are cooperating. Dozens of profound thoughts have flitted through my brain the past few days, but few have come home to roost. Instead of writing, real life has intruded and rudely interrupted my profundity. Somehow, I think the world will continue to spin faithfully on its axis even if I refrain from tossing a few more cyber cyphers into the fray. It may be a bit wobbly on that axis, but that’s a discussion for another day.