Sunday is the best time to think of the week for me, and it has been a great week to think about. I played plenty of games with my brothers and sisters, and Christmas was enveloped in all of the most wonderful traditions .We watch the George C. Scott version of the Christmas Carol (like we have for the last fifteen years). It brings the most wonderful sense of gratitude and excitement as Scrooge learns to love those around him. After the movie everyone is wound up and ready for Christmas. Hints of Santa and gifts float thick in the air, and the children are all shoveled off into the older siblings room to keep them under control while Santa comes. Not much sleep is had, but lots of pseudo-washroom trips and excited conversations about what will be in the stockings in the morning.
             Meanwhile, Santa (who looks dreadfully similar to my mother) is busy at work gifting, stuffing, cooking, cleaning, and all other "ings." I stayed up until a healthy 3:00 in the morning this fine Christmas day and was still beat by that Matriarchal Santa. 5:00 was the whispered time that sleep found her in bed, only to have the rising sun and gifts creep up on her at Seven. By then the anxiety from the excited chambers of children was a current in the air. Stampering feet and hushed urgings to return to the room were heard. Shouts and whispers were needy to be quelled while we waited for the married members of our family to come from remote locations. The calming influence of video games, like an aura of tranqulization was necessary to keep them contained those last thirty minutes. I waited near the gifted room with a warm fire, averting my eyes when necessary to have the best impact in a few moments when the room would be unveiled to the most excited of audiences.
             A hushed Tory and Pajama-wearing Bethany (Brother and sister in law) finally entered the house. The word was given like a gun shot and the race to the frontroom began! Victory in order: Glory and Story, Jory, Then Autumn and Clory, the perfect example of youngest to oldest, the last members losing gracefully and calmly. Many gifts were given, and many were received. It was a joyful morning and tears were taboo. One would not cry on Christmas, nor complain of things not had. Not here, or Santa would remember and take it to heart; even if Santa was nodding in her chair. All a part of  wonderful, bright, Christmas Morning.

In contrast

             In following suit with the title of my blog I thought my first post would be explanatory. Contrast is a concept I built on from a scripture found in the Book of Mormon.  "For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so... righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad..." (2 Nephi 2:11). In saying opposites are needed we explain a fundamental rule of life. The letters on that page of scripture were black against the white, every spoken word breaks the silence, every piece of art is made of different shades of color, and every meaningful moment in life stands against one of an opposite nature. Contrariwise, a blank page is of no benefit to most anyone. Silence will never tell you when dinner is ready. A white canvas can't capture the Mona Lisa's smile. A life without contrast has no meaning, no shape.
             In this life we make mistakes. Things that stand as bad decisions; harmful to us; harmful to others. Sometimes seen, sometimes felt, these are dark spots against our bright natures. But, much like letters on a page or flushes of color on a painting, they shape us. They define us. The darks explain the lights we have. All our misery will give voice to what brings us joy. In this sense I have designed this blog to bear record of both the light and the dark that comes into my life, and perhaps as the complexities of my life leave their brush strokes upon these pages, and my life's portrait bears more character, it will bring a little more understanding to one of your black flourishes, or joyful whites. I will say I hope it may,  and may we cherish what we have become and what we are becoming and every slip and fall that gets us there.