The first day...

I had not decided if I would do the Twelve days of Christmas this year. With Geoffrey still recovering from his tonsillectomy, and not feeling altogether in the spirit of the season, I thought it might be better to just stay silent (if you can't something nice...).

And then yesterday whizzed by with a great deal of excitement, one quick blaze, I thought I must start, albeit a day late.

Yesterday, in the middle of a peaceful afternoon, we had a fire. Not the kind in the fireplace, mind you. This one was in the middle of the kitchen table, the flames curling up around the chandelier.

At breakfast, I had lit the Advent wreath, the last two candles that were left and the white candle in the center. And then after breakfast, a late one, we all went to other areas of the house (um...never leave lit candles unattended). At around 3 in the afternoon, Faith and I were in the living room, I was showing her how to use her new knitting loom, when Geoff peeked his head around the corner and calmly asked, "Do we have a fire extinguisher?"

"Um...yes, why?"

"The wreath is on fire."

Up I jumped, I thought he meant the one up on the family room mantel, and when I turned the corner into the kitchen I saw a ball of fire on the table, engulfing the entire Advent wreath, the flames leaping up around the kitchen chandelier. My first instinct was to grab a big mixing bowl full of soapy water from the dishwater in the sink and dump it on the fire. A second dowsing got it all the way out, just as Doug ran in from the backyard where he had been sitting with his outdoor fire. He had looked up to the house and saw flames on the inside, and ran in just in time to see the last flame sputter out. The smoke was awful, lung-burning stuff, so we threw open the windows and ran to the front porch.

Faith was upset, crying from fear as well as relief, and moments later my in-laws pulled up, at the time they had planned to visit.

Unfortunately we had quite a mess to clean up, with water everywhere, and a big black scar on the kitchen table. The glass candlestick that held the white candle had shattered when I threw the water on it and shards of glass were everywhere, luckily no one got hit with it. Fortunately I had not used a table cloth or we would have had a bigger disaster, and probably would have had to call the fire department. As it is, the table might be saved, but I think the burn is probably more than skin deep. The chandelier was blackened, but not ruined, and, thank God, no one was hurt.

I learned my lesson about burning candles, especially those not in glass jars. Next year's Advent wreath will not have loose candles, and I will never light another candle not safely tucked down inside glass. As I lie in bed last night I imagined other scenarios, those that didn't happen, but just as easily could have. With all of us preoccupied with other activities, if the boys had not been in the family room, the entire kitchen could have been in flames before we noticed.

I hope you will learn a lesson from me, as well, and not light candles unattended (that warning is most definitely placed on candles for a reason).

And I hope that we have, from this day on, eleven calm days of Christmas.