Family Tradition

There is a firm rule in our house—you must believe in the spirit of Christmas to receive a gift. The magic of Santa may have faded as the years piled on, but what he stood for never has. In my mind, Santa represents the spirit of giving within all of us. And most giving starts with one thing—shopping.

Since before I can remember, my family has always gone shopping on the Friday after Thanksgiving. We don’t do the whole Black Friday thing with all of its door-busting and getting in line at 3 a.m. to save $10. For us, it’s more of a take-your-time, enjoy yourself, fun family tradition.

When I was younger, I always wanted to join my mother and Aunt Donna on their shopping excursion. It seemed like so much fun! They shopped locally owned, small businesses before it was trendy and cool. My mother’s good friend owned a toy store in Baton Rouge called Victoria’s Toy Station. That was their main reason for going shopping every year. They would spend all day hitting the small boutique shops and enjoying one another’s company. I wanted to go because I thought it would be fun. I also thought if I went, maybe I could even score a few extra presents!

As I reached my early teen years, my mom and Aunt Donna decided I was old enough to join them on their annual shopping trip. I asked my friend Kate to join me. We were so excited! Well, that excitement was pretty short-lived. We realized that shopping was also a very serious matter among my family members. They hit the stores with their lists ready. (My mom even has a book of what she gave who last year so she doesn’t give the same gift twice.) They have been known to spend over two hours in Victoria’s Toy Station picking out the perfect toy for even the youngest family member. They literally shopped until someone dropped.

I have a very clear memory of crawling beneath a Christmas tree with Kate and collapsing, unable to go any further, hoping they wouldn’t find us so we could get just a moment’s rest.

Several years passed before I attempted to join the ladies on their quest again.

Now, as an adult, our little group continues to make our pilgrimage every year. Aunt Donna, my cousins Kristen and Kim, my mom and I pile into our cars that Friday morning and head to Baton Rouge. Our first stop is still Victoria’s. All these years later, she still looks for our bright faces at opening time on that Friday. Her daughter now helps to run the shop, and we look forward to seeing pictures of her own sweet baby girl that might one day help us to shop in her grandmother’s store. We still take our time with our careful selections as we buy for a whole new generation.

This special day is one I look forward to every year. It’s a Christmas tradition that reminds us of the importance of family and the spirit of giving.

Keeping It Local

We tell small children to write their letters to Santa early enough so that Santa’s elves have time to make the toys they wish for. The mighty elves at Neiman Marcus follow the same rules, too. The department store puts out its Christmas Book in mid-October, including a list of Dream Gifts that the top 1 percent of the top 1 percent can probably afford. A tradition dating back to 1926, this year’s dreams include his-and-her fountains, an around-the-world flower show tour and a custom-designed yurt (complete with pillows from Rebecca Vizard of St. Joseph, La., and a custom, hand-crafted crystal chandelier from New Orleans-based Julie Neill Designs).

As I was perusing this year’s selection of unobtainable items, I noticed something interesting. As a reward for purchasing such an elaborate gift, Neiman Marcus will donate a portion of the proceeds to select charities; for example, in return for purchasing the $1 million his-and-her fountains designed by WET, of Bellagio fountain fame, Neiman Marcus will donate $10,000 to water.org, an organization that provides safe drinking water in developing countries.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with this idea of buying something that gives to a larger, worldwide nonprofit or organization. I personally purchased pink items during the month of October because a portion of the proceeds went to help with breast cancer research through the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I know research from these larger charities could very well save my life, or the life of another.

But there are many charities right here in the Houma-Thibodaux area that could use our donations, too. Many of them host their own fundraiser, with silent auctions full of donated items from local merchants and artisans. Junior Auxiliary of Houma will host their annual Denim and Diamonds event on Nov. 3. The proceeds go right back into Terrebonne Parish to help fund service projects dedicated to the well-being of women and children. TFAE will host Great Conversations on Nov. 8 to help provide local kindergarteners in public schools with an educational book of their own. These are just two small examples of local organizations that take your donations and return them back to your community where you choose to live, work and raise your family.

Other ways to give back locally include volunteering your time by joining a local service organization, such as Rotary, Junior Auxiliary or Habitat for Humanity. Donate old clothing to TARC’s Cedar Chest and help provide this amazing group of citizens with a meaningful employment opportunity. Or give the greatest gift of all—life—by donating blood at a local blood bank.

You can always give back to your community through the simple act of shopping locally. As you flip through the pages of this month’s magazine, notice all the local advertisements for independent retailers. By purchasing the products they sell or the services they offer, you help to keep your hard-earned money in this community.

What are some of the charities that are close to your heart? Share them with our readers by logging onto our Facebook page and starting a conversation. Introduce a whole new generation to the importance of giving.

Another Man's Treasure

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

If you could find an original, authenticated, autographed copy of this quote from the guy that first said it, someone in my new TV lineup would probably buy it and then make a small fortune selling it to a collector he just happens to know.

I have been relentlessly watching shows with historical value that provide me with endless entertainment, like “Auction Hunters,” “Storage Wars,” “Pawn Stars” and “American Pickers.” I can’t get enough of these colorful characters, most of whom make a living buying and selling old storage lockers and units. They never hesitate to bid, and sometimes continue to bid just to drive up the price for a competitor.

My favorite character on these shows is a toss-up between Ton from “Auction Hunters,” who loves stuff with motors, guns and things that go boom, and Dave from “Storage Wars,” whose unmistakable “Yeeepppp!” can be heard from across the parking lot of the storage facility he is bidding at.

One of the reasons I like these shows is the information I receive—amazing facts that I learn as my favorite vultures descend upon their new moneymaker. I have learned more about Americana than I ever thought possible. As items are discovered, a short history of the items and why they are valuable is given. I have learned about collectibles like flintlock firearms, Oswald clocks, circus posters and political paraphernalia, such as buttons and dolls.

The people in these shows view everything with dollar signs in mind. It makes the pack rat in me wonder how much potential value is hidden away in my attic or garage. But even if I did have a priceless piece of “who-knows-what,” I wonder if I would even consider that “whatchamacallit” to be valuable, or just an old “thingy” that was inherited. Then comes the big question: Who in the world do I sell it to?

These shows have endless resources willing to authenticate, give historical significance to and appraise items ... and a never-ending array of vendors ready to buy their newly acquired junk, or should I say ... treasure?

Smile!

Good ol’ Mr. Webster defines the word smile as “a facial expression in which the eyes brighten and the corners of the mouth curve slightly upward and which expresses especially amusement, pleasure, approval or sometimes scorn.” Wikipedia reminds us that “smiles can communicate feelings as different as love or contempt, pride or submission, flirtatiousness or polite tolerance.”

In my book, a smile is just an amazing thing.

Baby’s first smile at her mother; that flirtatious grin from across the room; the smile as you see your bride for the first time; the look on your grandparents’ faces as they celebrate their 50th anniversary. It is the first thing we request the moment a camera is whipped out. We text the image to one another and email with it every day. :)

You all know how much I like reading blogs on the Internet. I recently came across a blog that follows the life of a young single mother who often has trouble finding things to smile about. She has begun to make a list for the days when she needs “her frown to turn upside down!” It has inspired me to start my own. Not every day is a happy one; sometimes you need a little reminder. I’m not the most positive person. I’m not a negative person ... it’s just that I instantly see both sides of the coin. I have been accused of bursting a bubble or two in my lifetime. Some days, I have a hard time finding something to smile about. It’s at those moments when I discover more things to add to my list.

I challenge you to begin your own list for the days when the sky is gray and you need a helping hand. These are some things that make me smile:
• Reading a good book. Then reading it again and again.
• Watching “Jeopardy” and getting most of the questions right.
• Terry bursting out into random song and, if I’m lucky, dance.
• Stalking around the house, imitating a T-Rex to make John smile.
• That first sip of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning.
• Country music and Lola. I swear that kid knows every song!

Back-to-school Time!

Back to school time. I swear I can actually smell it in the store. Pencils, crayons, backpacks, lunch boxes, loose leaf paper, sticky notes, erasers, highlighters, folders ... I’m getting excited just thinking about it! I want to stock up on everything, and I haven’t been a student in years! I’m a sucker for general office supplies to begin with, so back-to-school supplies are like Christmas for people like me!

There is still an amazing feeling that comes from breaking out your bright yellow, just-sharpened No. 2 pencil and cracking open that brand-new notebook—all those blank lines staring back at you just waiting to be filled with endless knowledge or equally impressive doodles.

Despite my love of the supplies that made learning easier, I never was that great of a student. I wasn’t big on the one necessary part of learning––studying. One semester when my college report card showed three less-than-desirable grades and one A, my dad very wisely suggested to my not-so-happy mother that I was simply concentrating too hard on one subject. As you may have guessed, that one A was for a class in my favorite subject, English. It was my freshman writing class and because of that class, I was completely sold. I loved to write.

My love for writing carried on through the years. I was that odd student that loved term papers and such. I just wanted to write. Married to that was an equally strong passion for reading, which ended up serving me well when I finally figured out that studying equaled good grades. And as life carries on, my love of reading and writing helps to ensure that I never stop learning!

Cheese!

So I just realized I never uploaded my real picture that I use for the magazine. It's totally not as cool as the other one (I rather rock a nifty mustache) but I guess it'll do. I hate having my picture taken, so this is as good as it gets. Special thanks to Aimee Dugas Photography for having the patience to get a good shot while I wasn't busy goofing off!

The Secret is Out...

I never thought I’d be writing this, but the day has come. Ladies and gentleman, I have hit the wall. I have writer’s block. I have nothing witty ... or interesting ... or tear-provoking to write about. My creative juice has evaporated in the immense summer heat. So this month, in lieu of a deep and thoughtful column, I’m going to let you in on a little secret of mine. No fair telling others that haven’t read this column. You have to keep it to yourself ...

I’m a people watcher.

Whew! Feels good to get that off my chest! In a conversation the other day with our new sales rep, Lesley, I discovered we share a similar “hobby” of sorts. We enjoy watching people.

At restaurants, in line at the ice cream place, at the ballpark, in the airport—wherever people gather in public. Checking out what people are wearing, imagining where they are going and watching them interact with one another.

My favorite place to people watch is in a busy mall out of town where I am sure to know nobody and just watch as the people go by. Hearing tidbits of their conversations, with each other, to a person on their cell phone, with themselves ... it all leads me to begin to weave intricate stories about those people. I let my imagination and creativity take flight. I come up with fantastic stories about the unsuspecting people that cross my path. I give them names, careers, spouses, children—whatever! Don’t worry, I never write any of these fabricated stories down.

I’ll often ask my regular dining companion, John, “What do you think their story is?” about other people sitting in the restaurants we frequent. It’s an especially good night if I can get him to play along. I was thrilled when the movie “Date Night” included a scene in which the characters do the same thing at dinner. OK, well, maybe I just don’t feel so silly about my secret hobby anymore.

Dear 16-year-old me,

Dear 16-year-old me,

Smile. This year is going to be bigger and more monumental for you than any other. You are entering the 11th grade. You have finally grown into your features and decided to tame your eyebrows despite your mother punishing you. Just don’t get too carried away—full brows will always suit you better. Stay away from the hair dye. Just pluck those few first grays and move on.

Don’t worry about boys. There really are more fish in the sea. Don’t feel like you have to have a boyfriend to fit in. He’s not the one for you, and you will make the right decision.

Every time you wish you weren’t so thin, pinch yourself. The people that question why you are so thin are the ones that are in a personal struggle with their own weight.

Treasure your friends. Life takes some unexpected turns after high school, and you are almost 30 before you reconnect with these girls. They do like you for exactly who you are, not who you think they want you to be. Go to the parties, but stay true to yourself. And no matter what anyone says, you CAN be just friends with a guy.

Go a little easier on your parents. They are new to this, too. They may not always have the right things to say, and you may swear you are leaving on that first train out after graduation, but they will turn out to be your biggest supporters, no matter what you decide to do.

Don’t start smoking. You end up not quitting until you are 26.

Never stop writing. You end up doing that as a career! Keep reading. It helps you in more ways than you will ever know. People, even your own family, will pick on you for your wealth of useless knowledge. In your late twenties, something called Buzztime Trivia is in every bar and restaurant. You will ROCK this and impress lots of people.

Overall, treasure these moments. You are a very serious teenager. Loosen up a bit. Life is meant to be LIVED! You are strong, and I’m proud to tell you that you do make all the right decisions.

Press Photo

Every serious writer needs a press photo. You know, a head shot, to send along with works to be published. I am terrible at taking serious pictures. The photograph will inevitably get one terrifically silly shot that I beg to use. This is that shot. And Yes, I got shot down when I asked to use it in the Magazine. boo.

Happy Wednesday! Here's to finding the silly side of you!

Chosen

Lately many of the blogs I follow have been chatting about adoption, specifically Africa and the orphans in that country. Reading their stories and experiences has been breaking my heart. But in some ways, it has also forced me to look inward and examine exactly what adoption means to me. Being an adopted child, not internationally, but right here in Louisiana, has played a major role in my life. Whether I want to admit it or not, it was tough being told at age 11 that I was adopted. Imagine everything that you know as true, all of a sudden, isn’t any more. Your parents aren’t related to you. Your brother isn’t your brother by blood. Everyone has been keeping this HUGE secret from you all this time. It took me until nearly the age of 26 to finally realize the best part of being adopted.

I was chosen.

Ephesians 1:3-6 says: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will—to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves.”

Just as God chooses to allow us to enter into His family as adopted sons and daughters through faith in His son Jesus Christ, my parents chose (and were chosen by God) to add a daughter to their family through the miracle of adoption.

To know and feel this love in my heart is an amazing thing. My parents went through a tough time and miles and miles of seemingly unanswered prayers while trying to start a family. But God had a plan. He planned to place a beautiful baby girl (me, of course) directly into their laps as an answer to prayer they had forgotten to pray. And in their infinite wisdom, they chose. They chose to keep this precious gift and to raise her as their own. So much their own, that telling her any differently seemed like a lie. I was as much theirs as the next one, a little brother, that God blessed them with a mere 16 months later. And our family was complete.

Today, I awake and thank God every day for blessing me with this family. They are the miracle I hope my birth mother prayed for. To this woman, I also say a prayer of thanks for being strong enough to give me up. The greatest gift, the gift of life, can never be repaid. I hope she knows that.

To parents considering adopting a child, I hope God answers your prayers. It will not always be easy, but with your love and His, your child will be forever thankful.

Who wouldn’t want to be chosen?

My Mood These Days...

I really think this just sums it up. I have some seriously great plans. I know where I'm going.

Do you?

Kiss Me, I'm Irish!

March’s most popular holiday is St. Patrick’s Day. It used to be one of my most favorite days too. Green is my favorite color and I have a thing for four-leaf clovers. Many years ago, I wore a t-shirt around my Grandmother that said “Kiss Me, I’m Irish!” She looked at me and said, “That’s true, you know. You are part Irish.” Of course, I had no idea, but it made me all the more proud to wear that shirt.

Recently, my dad began to work on our family tree. He signed up for a popular website and threw himself into the research of his past. It was incredible to see how far back a person could really trace their history. This particular website had actual scans of original census records, military records and draft cards. On the draft cards, we could actually see the signature of my great-great grandfather.

It was amazing to see where family names come from. My father and brother’s middle name was actually a family surname at one point. It was apparently lost in a generation where there were no males to carry it on and became a middle name.

My grandmother was right, our family can trace its origins back to Ireland. So look for me on St. Patrick’s Day, celebrating my heritage like my ancestors would want me to. I’ll be playing green-beer pong at Mahony’s Irish Pub. Sláinte!

If We Were Neighbors; Linky Party!!

If we were neighbors... WHEW! Would you have heard it from me this week!

Bloggers, it has been a rough week. I live in South Louisiana, where these last two weeks have completely revolved around Mardi Gras.

I belong to the Krewe of Hyacinthians, an all-ladies club that is celebrating their 60th anniversary this year. And I was a royal maid to boot. It was an amazing time, I had a blast, met some wonderful women that I am honored to call friends, and made some everlasting memories.
But I'll let you in on a little secret.... I'm exhausted!!

And while the festivities tend to include a LOT of drinking, I chose to abstain. And I'm STILL exhausted. It is a full week after the Tableau and Ball and Parade, and I still can't seem to catch up on my sleep.

Fast-forward to my work week...

I am the managing editor of a local lifestyle magazine. I am in charge of getting all content turned in, on time, and getting it edited.

It seems as though all my writers must be exhausted too. Everyone asked for an extension. Everyone.

Boo.

Being raised in a military household, deadlines are my thing. Don't get me wrong, I procrastinate like a mad woman, but I always make my deadline. I like schedules and itineraries, and being prepared. People not being on time or on schedule drives me bonkers.

If we were neighbors, I hope this is the part where you would offer me a big hug and a cupcake, and tell me the world was going to right itself after Carnival season is over. I would accept the hug, devour the cupcake and hope with all my being that you were right!!!

If We Were Neighbors

If we were neighbors, the wonderful kind that enjoys coffee as much as I do, I would expect you to come over every morning and join me for a cup or 6. With my handy, dandy new Keurig coffee-making machine, you can chose a new flavor for every cup. And if we were close neighbors, like I know we would be, you would love the fact that I have a million choices for a single cup of coffee and love the fact that I can change my mind with every cup.

Today's conversation would have started off very casual, chatting about the weather and this easy warming trend. I know you are just as ready as I am to see those first little signs of spring. My flip-flop collection is screaming my name.

We would chat about the dogs that by now are running in circles around us as we sit in my backyard. Our newest member, Winnie, is a sweet foster from the local animal shelter. She is super high energy, but so lovable. We would discuss my concerns for her and where she will end up. After 4 weeks, she is starting to become a part of the family. As much as I know we can't keep her, she is not the right dog for our family, she has worn away my outer shell and is snuggling close to my heart.

We would talk about Mardi Gras and John's tableau that is this Saturday night. You would inquire about my dress, tell me of course I don't look fat, and compliment my fantastic shoes. We would talk about my tableau that is getting closer by the minute and discuss my anxiety about having to be presented in front of all those people. I am so worried that I may trip, or forget where I am going or what I'm supposed to do or whatever strange and embarrassing thing I am obsessing over at that minute.

We would talk about family and those we love most. About our boyfriends, husbands, children, etc. The more we would talk, the more we realize that God has truly blessed us with people in our lives that love and care for us.

This morning we would also chat about the magazine. Today is our final working press day and it can get kinda hectic. I would share with you my excitement about today. I love seeing all our hard work come together. The finished product always amazes me. Somedays I can still hardly believe that this is my job. It is so much fun!

We would smile and hug and say goodbye, even if it is only for a day. And I would know that I am blessed to have a neighbor like you.

What Inspires You?

My friend McCall over at Lee, Me and the Girls recently asked the question, "Who inspires you to be and do better?" I have been pondering the answer to this question for a couple days now. It's a little more complicated than it looks.

I am inspired everyday by something a little bit different. Being a writer, I read a lot and I love blogs. So often it's other people's musings that inspire me to do better. I read about the good they are doing, raising their children, helping Africa, and amazing things that I just wish I could do. I usually feel quite ordinary after reading all of their inspiring posts.

My editor Bonnie is a good source of inspiration. She is a very intelligent and talented woman, who is raising her first child (who will turn one in a month! omg!!) being an amazing wife to her husband, volunteering her time to help women and children in need through Junior Auxiliary, being a great friend to me in times when I think the world is crashing down, and many other unbelievable things that have me convinced some days she is Wonder Woman.

And of course, my dad inspires me to be a better person all of the time. He has been through so many ups and downs and had his Faith tested regularly. Yet he always perseveres. He holds his head high and truly believes that God has a plan that will be revealed in due time. He follows the belief that everything happens for a reason. He is an immensely strong man. I admire him in so many ways. Some days I have no idea how he manages to keep his cool. I am definitely the hot-headed type. I simmer and fume. He forgives and forgets.

Sometimes though, I find you just have to inspire yourself to be and do better. It's not always an easy thing, but living a life you can be proud of is an inspiring feat in itself. Allow yourself to be proud of the things you do, like service to others, or kind words in passing. Sometimes just reminding yourself to smile is all the inspiration you need.

Thanks McCall for posing this question.

Carnival Newbie

Ahhh, Mardi Gras...Carnival time...king cake season.

In my late teens and early 20s, I could count on two hands the number of parades I actually went to. Large, loud crowds and people throwing things at my head just wasn’t that high on my to-do list.

Then almost six years ago I met my boyfriend John. We began dating and I soon discovered his favorite holiday revolved around the colors of purple, green and gold. He is a member of the Krewe of Hercules, a fun-loving group whose parade kick-starts the Carnival season in Houma. To my surprise, I quickly became jealous of John’s ride. I knew some day I wanted to be a part of it.

This year my friend Sydney and I decided to join the Krewe of Hyacinthians together. It was an exciting summer, getting to know the ladies on my float, discovering that my cousin Kim was joining my float as well. (It’s her first year too. Have a great ride Kim!) The biggest surprise of all came in November when the court was presented.

Yes, dear readers, this anxiety-ridden Carnival-newbie is going to be a Maid for the Krewe of Hyacinthians. I have come full circle, from being a “take it or leave it” Mardi Gras fan to full-fledged royalty.

And I’m scared to death.

Have you seen the pounds of feathers we have to wear? And you want me to curtsy to my queen with all that on my back? Yikes! What happens if I trip on my hem in front of all those people? Have I mentioned I’ve never even been to a Hyacinthians tableau? I often feel like I’m going to toss my cookies just thinking about it!

Anxiety disorder aside, I am incredibly excited about this entire experience. I am going to be a part of an amazing tradition. I am honored to be a part of the 60th anniversary year of Hyacinthians. Look for me on Sunday, February 27th. I’ll be the one with 50 pounds of yellow feathers on my shoulders.

The gift of time

And just like that, a New Year is upon us again. It’s amazing how fast time flies by. It changes from “I’ll do that tomorrow” to “I gotta get started on that” to “Dang it, the deadline is today!” In the world of PoV, it often seems that we actually skip whole months. At the beginning of January, I have March stories being turned in. February stories have been ready to go since December, and April is just a blink away. You think you have trouble remembering what day it is? We really do live life in fast-forward at our office.

In December’s “Trenches” I mentioned my plan to slow down a little and enjoy Christmas a little more. Well, I made the effort and it paid off. I gave my grandmothers a special gift, handmade with all the love in my heart. I gave them the gift of Time. My time with them, one-on-one. Time to really get to know them, to ask them those questions that I always wanted to ask, to take a trip down memory lane hand-in-hand with them. There is so much that I want to know, and when you really break it down, so little time. These women are my family, my heritage, my history. They are my only link to people I’ll never know and never had the chance to meet.

What better gift could I give than the guarantee that they will live on forever through oral and written histories that we can pass down. I sure will have a heck of a time topping this one next Christmas!

Santa's Sneakers

I belong to a service organization called Junior Auxiliary. Similar to Junior League, we are a non-profit that focuses on women and children. I hold a couple offices within the group, the most fun being public relations officer. Each year, we submit projects to be considered for various awards. This project was submitted as a National Focus project. And.... SURPRISE! We won!!

So we decided to print the narrative that won us the award in the magazine that I work for, Point of Vue. Please enjoy!!



As Christmas approaches, more than visions of sugarplums dance through the minds of some children in Houma. These children are excited because they know Santa will be bringing them a new pair of sneakers this year. With the help of funds raised by Junior Auxiliary of Houma and donations from our local Payless shoe store, J.A. of Houma is able to provide shoes for over 200 children at their annual Santa’s Sneakers event.

Chartered by a group of caring, enthusiastic women in 1973, this local organization comprised only of volunteers continues to grow and thrive. Members work tirelessly throughout the year on a variety of projects that focus on local children and families in need of assistance. As part of the National Association of Junior Auxiliaries, a non-profit organization founded in 1941, N.A.J.A. has more than 13,500 members.

The national focus of J.A. is “Healthy Children, Healthy Futures.” Santa’s Sneakers was recently the recipient of the N.A.J.A. National Focus Award due to the outstanding nature of the sneaker project and its relevance to the national focus.

J.A. of Houma believes that by providing children with a pair of new sneakers, they are providing them with a chance to get out and play, to join in the schoolyard games and races and maybe even the
encouragement to join an athletic team. They believe that by receiving a pair of sneakers, a child may no longer have to go barefoot, thereby saving them from ridicule and harassment.

Often times, children’s shoes are over-worn, having been passed down from child to child. These shoes can no longer provide the necessary support and guidance for growing and changing feet. Proper fitting shoes can also aid existing problems such as low arches.

The organization takes special care to properly match each child with the perfect fitting shoe. In November, fitting sessions were held at the Terrebonne Parish Main Library. Professionals from Payless measured each child’s foot to ensure a proper fit and to enable the child to have a comfortable, personalized shoe.

The day of the Santa’s Sneakers event is filled with excitement, for the members of J.A. and the anxiously awaiting children. The membership arrives early to begin setting up for the grand event. On this day, the children are treated to much more than a pair of shoes. Crafts and a fresh, hot meal including hot dogs, nachos, cookies and other homemade sweets are provided for the children and their parents or guardians.

Arts and crafts stations are set up offering multiple projects for the kids to immerse themselves in. Children mix together their own special recipe for reindeer food, made up of different kinds of breakfast cereal, oats and of course the special glitter that helps the reindeer to fly. Another station offers picture frame decorating. Children stand at a craft station filled with Christmas themed foam cutouts including candy canes, holly leaves, snowmen, gingerbread men and snowflakes and a glitter pen, to write their names, and soon plain picture frames are turned into memorable keepsakes.

A Christmas party isn’t complete without a visit from Santa. Since all the children have been so good this year they quickly form a line. They bounce up and down with uncontained excitement as they wait their turn to sit on Santa’s lap for a quick visit and to have their picture taken.

Using a digital camera and photo printers, the J.A. members instantly provide children with their picture to place in their handmade frame.

While the children and their families eagerly anticipate the gift of a pair of shoes as well as the annual event, the true gift is watching the joy on children’s faces as they unwrap their brand new pair of shoes, rejoice as they try them on and race around the gymnasium.

I believe

I believe.

Much more than just words on a page, it’s a sentiment in my heart.

The holidays are such a hectic time. So much to do, so little time to get it done. I’ve got to trim the tree, hang lights on the house, get the family to smile for the perfect picture for our card, mail all those dang cards, shop for presents, wrap the presents, keep the dogs from drinking all the water from the Christmas tree, hustle to make it to mass on time, remember to put
everyone’s presents in the car, visit with this family, visit with that family…pass the paper bag! I’m hyperventilating already!

This year I’m choosing to do things a little more simply. No big decorations, just a small tree with our treasured and meaningful ornaments. No lights on the house, just a wreath on the door. Christmas cards will be sent, but with tidings of great joy. Presents will still be given, but more will be homemade (or home-baked) this year. And special care will be taken to make it to mass, where I can listen to the Christmas message and remember the reason for the season.

Most of all, I will continue to believe in the spirit of Christmas. That special feeling that comes when families gather and make memories, relive old traditions and start a few new ones, and smile as you put out the cookies for Santa.

Merry Christmas!