About that Christmas card

After several failed attempts to have all of the teens at home, we were running out of time to get our Christmas picture taken and cards ordered. Finally, I declared that everyone would pose for the picture . . . no matter what.

The day scheduled for the picture, it rained. Cold, heavy rains completely saturated the ground. By evening, our basement began to flood. When the basement floods, it must be fought on two fronts. Inside the house, furniture is lifted on two by fours and shoved out of the indoor river stream. Towels are used as dams while water is captured with a shop vac. The washer and dryer chug without any rest, trying to transform the soggy towels into clean towels for the flood battle. That is the easy part.

Outside, the moat that Doug likes to call an unfinished French drain, must be dug deeper. In total darkness and freezing rain, sinking further into the mud with every move, shovels dig furiously against the walls of liquid Earth. It is dangerous, grueling work, but while the indoor fight only helps with the symptoms, the outdoor fight is the solution to stopping the flood.

So, in between rounds of battle, the picture was taken. Minutes after I declared the photo session completed, Doug, Tommy and Noah were covered in mud, freezing cold and absolutely miserable. Inside the warm house, I guiltily vacuumed water, tossed another load in the washing machine and ordered our cards.

In my haste, I didn’t attempt any editing to improve the picture. I chose the wrong picture for the back of the card. I also failed to notice that I accidentally ordered extra-small, notecard sized cards. The unedited, badly chosen icon, under-sized cards delight me. They are perfect for a chaotic moment in time when life was far bigger and brighter than the little details that I fixate on so easily.

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