My 2016 Favorites

I can't believe 2016 ends tomorrow. This year has gone fast. While it was not a good year for dying celebrities, it was a fantastic year for our family. We traveled, we laughed, we ate a lot, we actually went on dates and adventures, and when it comes to this year my only regret is not keeping a better journal.

I want to share a few of my favorites this year when it comes to books and movies, which are two things I love. I found time to read this year--well over 50 books! That doesn't include the four chapter books I read to Kevin and the hundreds of children's books I read to both of my kids. Maybe it was the two vacations and cashing in credit card rewards for movie tickets, but Scott and I actually managed to go to more than two movies this year. We went to 14 movies in theaters (two of those at a John Wayne Film Festival and the other 12 new releases). Yeah, spoiled.

Rinda's Reads: Top 10 for 2016

Every book on this list is excellent. Every book on this list changed me in some way. Every book on this list is one I want to own. Not all of these books were published in 2016; they just happen to be ones I encountered for the first time this year. All 10 recieve 5 stars for me, but I've put them in order.

10. Summer Before the War by Helen Simonson
9. The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh
8. The Legendary Inge by Kate Stradling
7. When Crickets Cry by Charles Martin
6. A Night Divided by Jennifer A. Nielsen
5. The 13th Tale by Diane Setterfield
4. Fireweed by Terry Montague
3. The Boys in the Boat by Daniel J. Brown
2.  The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
1. Salt to the Sea by Ruta Septys

Honorable Mentions go to:

• Immortal Writers by Jill Bowers
• With Every Breath by Elizabeth Camden
• Etched in Sand by Regina Calcuttera
• Eleanor & The Iron King by Julianne Daines

Best Movies of 2016

So, we saw loooots of movies this year. We usually make it to one or two. I'm betting I make it to maybe four next year (and at the top of that list is Hidden Figures and, of course, Beauty and the Beast). Though Hollywood might disagree with my pics, the majority of the movies we saw I really liked. So, mostly for my records, here is a list of the 2016 movies we got to see (the additional three we saw via VidAngel. We love VidAngel.) and my rating for each.

• The Finest Hours (*****)--so intense, but such a great story. It's on Netflix, check it out!
• The Jungle Book (***)
• Angry Birds Movie (***)
• Finding Dory (****)--I am not a fan of Finding Nemo, but I surprisingly enjoyed this one
• Sully (***)-- this movie could have really taken off or tanked, but it just kind of...floated. 
• The Legend of Tarzan (*****)--my favorite of the year!
• Me Before You (***)
• Rogue One (**)---how many hours and no stinkin kiss? Me=not a fan.
• Eddie the Eagle (****)
• Sing (****)--saw this one today. The whole family LOVED it!
• Storks (**)--my family really liked this one, it just wasn't my favorite
• Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (***)--I liked this one, but was highly disappointed that the characters were changed so much from the original books
• Zootopia (****)
• Secret Life of Pets (*)--this movie had such a great trailer but was so not worth my time
• Allegiant (***)--Scott and I finally watched this Series via VidAngel and Amazon Prime. We are behind, I know. 

And just in case you were interested...

Top 5 Blog Posts of 2016 (According to Me)

• What Mary Knew
• Third Time's The Joy
• Baking Aisle Epiphany
• My Favorite
• A Mom of "Just" Two

Happy New Year all! See you in 2017!

What Mary Knew

Mary let her voice soften and the last few strains of her lullaby fade into the emerging darkness as she watched her son’s chest rise and fall, steadily breathing himself into a deep sleep. She paused, treasuring the quiet moments, searching her son’s face for evidence of herself in him. Perhaps in his eyelashes, the color of his hair? Evidence of his Father shone through him, even as he slept. It wasn’t so much in the physical ways, Mary knew, but in how he knew just when to put his little arms around her to comfort her, the ways he took time to peer into the eyes of strangers on the street, the gentleness toward animals that was often absent in small boys of his age. 

Her heart started to hurt as she noticed that the baby folds and wrinkles were starting to disappear from his skin. His infancy would soon be a memory, though she knew she would never forget any detail of his miraculous birth. She tried to tell herself that there was much joy ahead in watching him grow, in giving him siblings, in teaching him about his Divine role in God’s plan, in being taught by him—though she knew, with the joy, there would be a pain greater than her mother heart could bear alone. 

Trying to distract herself, she left his side and picked up the wash water and headed to dump it outside. It was never fully dark around their residence, and she smiled as she basked in the light of what the other villagers called the New Star.

To her, the true light of the star was sleeping soundly on a bed of straw that was not much grander than the manger that served as his first cradle. 

She waved to her neighbors, those also preparing their households for evening. Somehow, in this town of David that had no room for them, she and Joseph had made a home. She could hear the faint sounds of him smoothing the wood that would serve as someone’s doorpost or table. He would be working for a few hours yet, while his meager candle supply would allow him to see enough to feel the wood take shape in his hands. 

She was surprised, then, when only a short while later, Joseph entered the house. 

“Mary,” he called quietly, his voice conveying a reverence that had never seemed to go away since the night the angel visited him in a dream to tell him of the child coming, the child who was not his son but would be raised and protected by him. 

Mary turned and looked past Joseph to the men silently entering the house behind him. Though they were covered in the dust and dirt of a long journey, the fine fabrics of their robes refused to be hidden. They were dressed in jewels and golds and precious medals. Surely these men were important, possibly kings?

Though they bowed and politely sought entrance to her home, Mary knew why they had come.

They were not here for her, and they were not the first to follow the star. 

Walking quietly, she led them to the far side of the room, where Jesus lay, starlight shining on his face through the window. 

The men dropped to their knees, then lowered their bodies, their heads on the floor. They had probably never had occasion to bow before anyone—though certainly others bowed before them—and here they were, worshipping a toddler. 

As they rose slowly, Mary could see the tears washing their dusty faces. 

She knew their joy, and she smiled. 

Her son seemed to sense their presence, and he slowly opened his eyes, sitting up and looking at each man in turn. He stood, on shaky legs that had only mastered walking a few weeks before, and one by one, touched each king’s face, wiping away tears with his small fingers. 

When he was finished, Mary picked Jesus up and held him close. The kings stood and motioned to their servants, waiting outside, to bring in their gifts for the child.

Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh. 

Gifts for royalty. Tribute. Precious incense. Anointing oils.

Though she had grown up in a small village in Nazareth, Mary knew the smells, the symbolism.

Gold for a king.

Frankincense for a priest.

Myrrh for death and burial. 

She saw in their eyes that these wise men knew, as she knew, the role her son was to play in the world and the worlds to come. They smiled their thanks, and their sympathy, as they saw her understanding of their bittersweet offerings.

“You cannot stay here,” the tallest one whispered, his deep voice echoing through her home. He turned and spoke to Joseph, telling of Herod and the danger that her son was in. They would not betray the Christ child, they vowed, but Herod would ask and would not rest until her baby was found. 

Would her family never know a home? 

As the kings took their leave and Joseph showed them out, Mary laid Jesus back down, singing softly to her baby for a second time that night. 

I will be your home here, she vowed. And you will lead me back to mine.

Author's Note:
Since becoming a mother, and having been pregnant through the Christmas season three times now, I often wonder what life was like for Mary, the mother of Jesus. We know so much and yet so little about her. People speculate about her life, her feelings, about how complete her knowledge was of her Son's divine role. I guess I am one of those people. 

I believe she knew, as all mothers do, that life would contain pain and trial for her child. To what extent did she know? That is something we will have to wait to find out on the other side. For the past week or two, I have pictured Mary in her first days and years of motherhood. How she must have felt, confiding in Elizabeth. Her relief when Joseph told her of his dream. Her anxiety as she labored among the streets of Bethlehem, not knowing where her son would be born but knowing God would provide. How she must have marveled at the response and witness of the shepherds, of Simeon and Anna. How would it be, to have wise men show up at your door one day, to see your toddler? To tell you to leave the home you've worked so hard to provide for your Messiah, your son? 

I don't know. No one does. The scriptures give us few details, but firm testimony. These are my words, this is my imagination filling in the blanks for myself. Perhaps they will make you think. 

Did Mary know? 
I believe she did.