A Christmas fire hazard


I had coffee yesterday with my friend Kelly who has so graciously offered to consult with me on our monthly Girl’s Night Out events.  We were talking over all the details when I mentioned how wonderful it is to not need linens.

She gave me that look. 

It was a little sideways.  A little extra eyebrow raise.  A little tilt head.  I said, Do you think we need linens? 


If you know me very well at all, you know that decorating is not my strength.  Pinterest?  They do not know my name.   I used to wish I was more Pinteresty.   I used to try to copy everything my sisters did to host a dinner party.  I even copied their dishes and china on my wedding registry.

Maybe not exactly, but it was really close.

Being the third of four girls has given me a lifetime of chances to compare myself on every level.  Some I cared about and some I didn’t.  But when I bought my first house, started planning my wedding and did my wedding registry, I realized decor just really wasn’t my thing.

It’s only been in last few years that I’ve begun to embrace the fact that I’d rather make you laugh, or cry, than give you a room full of eye candy.

Creating the experience. . . what you’re going to feel when you walk in the room and who you will connect with. . . is what I do best.  I will dive right into the lighting, the music – volume, tempo, and lyrics of every single song, before I will notice if the table is set with linens, or if that “wildflower” in the vase is actually a pretty little weed.

As a result, it should come as no surprise that the Christmas decor in my home is minimal. 

We have a live tree.  We have a few nativity scenes, some nutcrackers, stockings, wreaths and Santas, but everything we have is either there to bring us color or an experience.  We share the stories and the memories.  My days of failing at trying to impress guests with a Pinterest worthy entryway are over.   Which is why the big strands of exterior lights, that ordinarily wrap our front trees, were left behind in the bin, this year.

And ended up in my boy’s bedrooms!

As soon as I came upstairs, my brain screamed, “Fire Hazard! Fire Hazard!”, but my heart saw memories being made. So we set boundaries about only plugging them in during nighttime prayers and this is how our Christmas fire hazard continues.

It continues to make memories.

Even though you’ll never find this decor on Pinterest, it’s bringing fun, and joy, and Christmas magic to the time my family spends connecting in the evening before bed.

And that’s a really good thing.

So go ahead, go out into your world today and be a Christmas fire hazard.  Light it up the way you light it up best.

Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll catch a little bit of your fire. 

to more love,


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