This article originally appeared last year on ARHtistic License.
Family Singing at Christmas by Betty Mason Arthurs
Family Singing at Christmas
by
Betty Mason Arthurs
Memories of my family and our love of music and singing together, now that my parents and one brother are gone, help to overcome my sorrow of missing them at Christmastime and bring me joy. I share a memory from Christmas Eve long ago.
My family stomped their boots on the porch of the old, two-story nursing home. Soft-colored lights and garland adorned the porch railing and reflected off the powdery snow in the early evening. Through the front windows I caught a glimpse of red and green crepe paper streamers draped over the staircase railing and the small Christmas tree in the foyer. It was Christmas Eve.
Giggling with excitement, I pushed open the heavy oak door. “Come on. The nurses are expecting us.” I urged my family forward and shut out the frigid air in Albion, New York.
I was home from college on holiday break in the 1960s. Mark, my middle brother had just arrived on leave from the army and Don, my oldest brother, and his wife Margie, had driven 30 miles over icy roads to join us. Mom’s chili supper warmed our stomachs and Dad, his blue eyes shining above his red wool scarf, couldn’t stop grinning. Our celestial family-choir was ready.
“So glad you’re here.” Yvonne, the evening nurse, shook our cold hands.
“I told our patients you were coming so anytime you want to start singing is fine.”
The smell of antiseptic and the supper of roast beef mingled together in the air. In the room to my left, I could hear Mabel’s gentle snore for she was already tucked in bed for the night. Joan slumped in her wheelchair in the bedroom to my right, staring at nothing while her roommate Bessie snuggled with one of her baby dolls, rocking it to sleep.
For me, the elderly patients in every room were my friends. During the summer I worked with them as a nurse’s aide; the other months I pursued my nursing studies. Because of tight quarters in the Victorian-style house, we stood in the foyer to sing.
Our family tradition every Christmas was to go caroling at a nursing home, sing in church, or perform in school musicals. For us, music permeated every part of the holidays. My brothers went on with their own lives to college and careers, but every time they managed to get home, we sang. If all we did was carol around our old piano, it was a tradition we loved.
We burst out in song, “Hark! the herald angels sing.” Don and Margie sang the melody. Mark and Dad belted out their sweet tenor. Mom and I carried the alto. It seemed like we split the air with three-part harmony up to heaven. Music had bound us together through the good and bad times as a family. Could we bring some joy to the lonely patients this cold winter’s night?
“Joy to the world, the Lord has come” and “O little town of Bethlehem” we sang even louder, infused with an inner joy Christmas brings. We sang song after song, until finally “Silent Night” ended our winter serenade. Then we quietly spread out, going our separate ways to greet all of our listeners. We held fragile hands, gave hugs, and kissed wrinkled cheeks.
Mabel, now awake, her face beaming like a white candle lit in a holy place, took my hand and whispered, “Oh, that was so beautiful. Thank you.” Bessie stood up from her rocking chair and squeezed me along with her baby doll. “Pretty, pretty,” was all she said. Joan, sat up straighter in her wheelchair and tried to talk as I bent to hug her.
Yvonne opened the front door for us and said, “Thank you for coming. It meant so much. We don’t get many singers.” Calling out “Merry Christmas” we stepped out the door. Several called back in feeble voices, “Merry Christmas.”
Back home, Dad turned on the lights of our tree and we munched on Mom’s sugar cookies and drank hot chocolate. We reminisced and laughed about past holidays, recalling when our ginger cat attacked the tree and it crashed in a hail of broken ornaments. Mark and I tied the tree up with rope.
In a few years I married and finally our musical chorus had a bass, my husband John. Then Don’s children and my children joined us with their sweet angelic voices. Singing, whether together or in our own parts of the country, bonded our family.
Now that my parents are gone and my brother Mark too, I treasure the memories I have of singing together, especially the Christmas Eve we sang in the Albion nursing home and touched the hearts of lonely patients.
What are some of your Christmas traditions? Do you hang stockings or bake and decorate Christmas cookies? Please share them with me in the comments below.
My Homemade Christmas Eggnog
I’m posting this recipe fairly early in December because you may want to enjoy this alcohol-free, light eggnog all month. I usually make this to sip on while we decorate our Christmas tree.
My husband’s family has made their own eggnog for years. I married into this awesomeness 25 years and 11 months ago. Since I first tasted the stuff, I was hooked. It wasn’t like the store bought junk that’s thick and super sweet. This eggnog is so much better. So even if you’re not an eggnog fan, give this a chance. It may make you the Christmastime hero in your family. I’ve modified it a bit from the original recipe, so I feel comfortable calling it my own recipe. Here goes!
Texas Turkey Casserole: Left-over Turkey Baked with Tortillias by Betty Mason Arthurs
Texas Turkey Casserole by Betty Mason Arthurs
Do you need to use up left-over Thanksgiving turkey? Here’s a recipe with a Southwestern flavor using corn tortillas, one of our family’s favorites.
Texas Turkey Casserole (Can be baked in oven or microwave)
For 6 servings you will need:
1 Tbsp. oil
½ cup chopped onion
1 small can diced, green chilies
1 medium tomato
1 small clove garlic, minced or garlic powder
2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp. cornstarch
¼ tsp. each salt and pepper
½ tsp. chili powder
1 cup chicken broth
½ cup milk
8 corn tortillas
2 cups cooked turkey, chopped (can use more)
6 oz. shredded Jack or Cheddar cheese
Preparation:
1. Heat oil in skillet. Sauté onion, chilies, tomato and garlic over low heat,
stir until onions are softened.
2. In small sauce pan, melt the butter. Stir in flour. Cook for a minute.
Stir in salt, pepper and chili powder.
3. Slowly add the broth. Stir over medium heat until thickened. Add milk.
Heat thoroughly.
4. Lightly butter an 8-inch baking dish. Lay 4 tortillas in dish.
Evenly distribute 1 cup turkey over the tortillas.
5. Spoon ½ cup sauce over turkey. Sprinkle with half of cheese and
half of vegetable mixture. Add ½ cup sauce. Repeat with remaining
tortillas, turkey, sauce and vegetables, topping with cheese.
6. Bake at 350 F for 20 to 25 minutes until heated through.
(Microwave at high power for 8 minutes.)
Review of My Rhyme-Time Bible for Little Ones by Donna Clark Goodrich
It’s the day after Thanksgiving–only one more month before Christmas!
But if someone on your Christmas list is between three and six years old, may I suggest a beautiful Bible storybook–in rhyme?

My Rhyme-Time Bible for Little Ones is gorgeously illustrated. It features the biblical heroes and events that captivate children:
- the creation

- Noah’s ark
- God’s promise to Abraham
- Joseph, whose brothers were so mean to him, yet he gave them food when they were starving
- Moses, the baby in a basket who became a great leader
- Ruth, who left her home to support her mother-in-law
- Samuel, who becomes a great prophet
- David, who fought a giant
- Queen Esther, who saved her people
- the birth of Jesus
- Jesus’ miracles
- the disciples
- Peter, who denied Jesus, and then spent the rest of his life telling people about him
Goodrich retells these stories in rhyme. I am very fond of rhyming books for children, if they are as well-done as this one is. In my opinion, repeatedly reading rhymes to children helps them recall the words, and encourages them to read for themselves. (See Why and How to Read to Your Baby.)
Goodrich is well-known among the Christian writing world, and (full disclosure) is a good friend of mine, as well as a contributor to this blog. She has authored 24 books and over 700 published articles and short stories, and is hard at work writing a book for caretakers. A freelance editor and proofreader, she’s also a popular instructor at Christian writers conferences and has presented writers’ workshops across the US. Many writers owe their starts to Donna Goodrich.
Church at the Nursing Home
(This post first appeared on Parenting With a Smile in July, 2016.)
Rollin and I went to church on a Thursday afternoon in Minnesota with his 93-year-old dad at his assisted living home. Folding chairs lined the activity room and about fifteen gray-headed people congregated there. Walkers parked along the perimeter of the meeting place.

The kind-hearted preacher spoke with conviction about the peace and joy Jesus gives. His voice rose above the confused murmuring of some of the attendees.
“Sweet hour of prayer,” one woman said loudly, over and over. Occasionally, she’d throw in a “Jesus loves me this I know.” Another lady had trouble finding just the right place to sit. Rollin helped her to a seat, front and center. She seemed to be pleased with it. At first it was annoying, trying to hear the man up front over the interruptions, but God was there, waiting to interrupt my own annoyance with His grace.
Soon, communion emblems were offered. The pastor tenderly served each one individually at their seats. Some couldn’t take their own piece of bread, dropping it on the floor. The pastor decided maybe he should hand each one their piece. He did the same with the cup. As he went around, he suggested we sing the children’s song, “Jesus Loves Me.” Old, wobbly voices joined in song and my eyes filled with tears. To be in the company of such saints moved me. It didn’t matter that they were confused, unable to make sense of what to do with the bread and tiny cups they’d been handed.
“Sweet hour of prayer,” she said again, louder than was appropriate. But from the overflow of her heart, it came. Worship in its truest, purest form.
Then the pastor went around to collect the empty cups. “Would you like to drink that?” he gently asked the first woman. No, she shook her head. But then she drank it, and placed the plastic cup on the tray he offered. The same happened with the old man in a wheelchair.
Now my own heart overflowed. To be in the presence of these saints was an honor I’ll not soon forget. I hope when my mind is foggy, the thing that rises to the top is worship and praise to the One who has loved and sustained me my whole life.
The old folks’ memories are gone, but God sees their hearts, past the place of confusion, past the inappropriateness of their behavior, to who they are because of Jesus. Jesus loves them, this they know. Loves them, died for them, will come for them. Even so, Lord Jesus, come.
Linda
Why and How to Read to your Baby…by ARHuelsenbeck
All five of my children knew how to read by the time they entered kindergarten.
Are they incredibly brilliant? Yes. But more than anything else, I attribute their early grasp of a complicated but vital skill to the fact that my husband and I read to our children from the time they were babies.

Photo by devinf on flickr
At what age should I introduce my baby to books?
Somewhere from three to five months, while holding the baby in your lap, page through a board book with him. He will try to wrest it from your hands and put it into his mouth. That’s what babies do—they explore the world with their taste buds and their sensitive tongues. Let him have it, and gently try to draw his attention to the pictures.
This step is a lot easier if you have already been showing him things in his environment and naming them. “Oh, there’s Garfield. Isn’t he a fluffy kitty?” Talking to little ones from the day they’re born and verbally labeling things helps babies grasp that words have meanings. It’s also essential to language acquisition.
Even so, the baby will probably not begin to zero in on the pictures until at least age six months or so. And then, her focus will only last a few seconds before she tries to eat the book again.
Start out with books that have very few words. When your baby starts paying attention to the pictures, either read the words or talk about the pictures.
When can I start reading my child real storybooks?
Around twelve months, your child is learning words and less likely to stuff books into his mouth. It’s the perfect time to start actually reading to him (though some children are ready even earlier). Take into consideration that his attention span is really short—be sure you’re turning pages at least every 30 seconds, even if it means not reading all the words on the page yet.
The best early books don’t have much plot. Instead, they have lots of pictures. When my own children were little, I loved Dr. Seuss’s ABC and Richard Scarry’s Best Word Book Ever. Read the ABC book (and any rhyming or story book) with expression. Lively renditions will help your little one remember the words, which will come in handy later as he starts trying to read.
Speaking of rhymes, don’t overlook Mother Goose. The meter and rhythm of nursery rhymes create spoken music and ingrain themselves into children’s memories. When I taught elementary music, we often used Mother Goose rhymes for musical exploration. It was heartbreaking to discover that many students were unfamiliar with them. Back in the day, children memorized a whole repertoire of nursery rhymes before they entered kindergarten, just from their parents reading them aloud over and over again.
Work reading into the child’s routine. We read to the kids at naptime and at bedtime, often for a half-hour or more. Sometimes we read to a bunch of the kids altogether, and sometimes we read to each one individually. (One-on-one is my preference. I had the luxury of being a full-time mom to five children. Tailor your reading time to fit your own obligations.) Story time deepened our bonding. We cuddled, kissed, laughed, and discussed the silly and the profound.

Photo by San José Library on flickr
How does reading to my children help them become readers?
Having story time places value on reading, especially if your children also see you reading newspapers, magazines, books, and e-readers.
Also, if you track the words with your finger, your child will unconsciously pick up the left-to-right, top-to-bottom orientation of Western written language.
Little by little, you can teach your children the letters of the alphabet, the building blocks of words. The ABC book and Sesame Street will reinforce what you do.
Start with the first letter of the child’s name. Point it out a couple of times a day, especially whenever you see it in a bold form, like on a sign or a license plate. You can run your finger along the shape of the character and say, “Look—C for Carly.” Pretty soon, your child will be pointing them out as well. Then add M for Mommy or D for Daddy. Pace yourself—don’t overwhelm them. But if you are persistent, over the course of a year, they will learn to recognize all the letters.
I am a phonics enthusiast. After my kids knew their letters, I began telling them about their sounds. “M says mmmmmmm.” And I taught only one sound at a time.

Photo by Harald Groven
After they knew most of the sounds, I began teaching them how to sound out words. I would point to the word milk on the gallon jug, and sound it out slowly, running my finger under each letter. Soon, they would find the word milk in stories we were reading, and sound it out for me. We did the same for other common words. As the months went by, the kids developed a strategy for figuring out words they didn’t recognize.
We bought our first house when Carly was two and a half. One day in a furniture store where we were shopping for furniture for the new house, Carly asked, “What does d-e-p-t spell?”
I answered, “That’s a short way of writing department.”
“Oh,” she said. “That sign says, No Smoking by Order of Fire Department.”
Yes. Two and a half years old. Was she unusually bright? Yes, but it didn’t take her siblings much longer to be able to read like that. It was exposure to words and to the secrets of deciphering that enabled them to learn to read at an early age.
Once your child begins to read, you can take turns reading pages during story time.

Photo by woodleywonderworks.
How long do I have to keep this up?
There will come a day when your child will discover she can read silently. Pretty soon, she will be able to read faster than you can read aloud, and you reading to her will be an occasional treat instead of an everyday occurrence. (And they might want to take over story time for their younger siblings, at least sometimes.) For my children, this happened when they were five or six.
Are you willing to spend five or six years getting your children ready to read? Did you have a different experience reading to your children? Share in the comments below.





