Whew. Almost Here!

It's almost here.  We have shopped and polished and mailed.  We have delivered and cooked and wrapped. The tree is decorated.  The turkey's  defrosting.  The  presents are wrapped and waiting.  Christmas is almost here.  

This is my favorite time. Everything is ready and I am anticipating the arrival of my family.  The house is sparkling.  The freezer is full.  Expectations and excitement.  And of course the reality when they all come roaring through the door. Chaos. Noise.  Dirty clothes.  Dirty dishes. The sounds of my family as they come home.  For Christmas. Finally!

What follows is an essay by Annie Lamott. one of my favorite writers.  She shares some interesting insight about the season and the expectations and  traditions that surround it.  If you are not familiar with her work, Lamott's guide to writing and to life, Bird by Bird or  Stitches , a book about hope and healing, are great places to start.  Enjoy.  Oh and Merry Christmas. Chrissie.

We did it! It's December 22: we are within striking distance of December 26. That means there shalt be parking spaces again. There shalt not be any more bell ringers, or Rudolph, or Almond Roca. No more chocolate covered Peppermint Bark, barking its way past our clenched teeth. No more deeply unhinged people beaming at us with a rictus of holiday mirth, wishing they had a grenade. No more young children shaking wrist bells at us, plotting our overthrow.

Now, by the same token:

It IS the last Sunday of Advent: let there be light, and let it begin with me. Let others see the Light inside me, through my cracks and dents. More Light! Each day will be a tiny bit longer; the Spring is coming. We are so much closer to the Spring the we were in the glory days of September. it's time to plant bulbs. No, no, you didn't blow it--it's never too late. We plant them in the cold and dark, in rocky soil that nicks our fingers, and yet when they bloom, daffodils and paper whites, each one is like a candle with a stamen, not a wick. They remind us that nothing--nothing!--is ever lost. It just may not be its time to appear yet.Bulbs and then...wait...wildflowers.

Once on a cold dark mid-December's day, I happened to be at the Book Depot in Mill Valley with Wendell Berry, who said gently, "It gets darker and darker and darker, and then Jesus is born." I love that so much.
 
 I wish God had consulted me when God thought up December. I would have said, "Dawg! Don't do it." Seriously, it's one of those thoughts that you have at 2:00 with a bunch of other cokeheads, that seems like a good idea at the time--which will be the title of my autobiography. It Seemed Like a Good Idea At the Time. Really, if God had thought to ask, I would have put the kabosh on December, snakes, and tonsils. Ixnay on the ats-ray, too, Dude.

But at the same time, we've done it--we've come through. It's like coming through labor, where you realize midway that you don't like children but you push on. The holy days are a mixed-grille: holy and hard. Yet when the motley group of relatives and riff-raff that we call "our family" gathers for a meal, here is what we may note, if we remember the priest who said, "Sometimes I think that Heaven is just a new pair of glasses:

We'll see everybody at their best and worst, meaning well, sharing what they can. Trying not to drink so much, trying not to nag so much or provoke; trying to be better than they are. We will see people who used to hate each other passing and receiving the gravy, and that is what grace looks like. We will see stingey people who have spent too much on our children. Along with the horrible sweet potato dish and Almond Roca wrappers, we'll see good will. Good will--Wow. 

We'll see relief on the faces of the old, that the family is intact, ish --and that is a miracle. We will see hope in the talented teenagers. We'll see too many people squished in at the table, because we invited people who had nowhere else to be. It will be the loaves and the fish and the terrible sweet potatoes. And wonder of wonders, we'll see forgiveness marbled throughout it all. Hammarskjold said that Forgiveness is the answer to the child's dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is made clean again. Or at least, broken things that work well enough again, against all odds.

I would fall to my knees and say thank you, if I could, without risking seriously body harm. So I am not going to say that prayer today: I am going to BE it.  Thank you.  

Joy To The World

It's down to the count. One week to go. Are you hyper-ventilating yet? Planning one more trek to Tulsa? Williams Sonoma, Sam's and Target lure like a siren's call. Take my word for it. Put your fingers in your ears. Combined with the Tulsa-ites weather and electricity problems, the trip to T Town just isn't worth it. There are no traffic lights. Cars are backed up for miles. And those people are pretty frantic. I would never have thought our January ice storm was lucky. If we had to have one, the timing was pretty fortunate. It was after Christmas!!

Ah. The Holidays. There is wrapping paper all over the bedroom. There is flour all over the kitchen floor. The Southern Living Amaryllis and Paper White centerpiece is blooming too soon and will be dried up by December 24th. The Christmas cards were returned for not enough postage and several catalog gifts are back-ordered. There will be 2o cousins for Christmas Eve lunch, immediate family for dinner, then Christmas Morning Breakfast and an Open House Christmas Night for friends. To the grocery store, again. Better get cooking.

There's not enough time. There's too much to do. Who dropped a gift by? D#@*! I didn't get one for them. How dare them be thoughtful. Still have those Angel Tree kids to buy for. Wonder if they would take a check? Stop by for a glass of wine and conversation? Are you kidding? We still haven't put up the Christmas lights. Gotta put up the Christmas lights. The rest of the neighbors are giving us dirty looks. "But honey, ours is the only house on the block with just a wreath on the door. Stand Back! Inflate the 12 foot snow globe!"

Mumbling to yourself? Nah. Not sleeping and making lists at two in the morning? Maybe. Hair falling out? Yes. Just a nervous reaction to stress.

Are you finding yourself short with the kids as you create the perfect Christmas? "Don't bother me. I have 300 gold sequins to glue on this table runner. You'll just be thrilled at the ambiance created (walking past to the Kids Table in the laundry room on Christmas Eve)."

" Oh honey. Love the glitter and Popsicle stick ornament with your precious photo........No!.....not on the Christmas Tree. Got a gold and red blown glass kind of thing going this year. Popsicle sticks just don't go with the theme."

Exaggerated? Maybe. Based somehow on fact? Probably so. I for one got a big dose of put it in perspective last night. I hope some of you reading this were also as blessed. The Muskogee Community Chorus presented Handel's Messiah at St Paul UMC. Sitting there with eyes closed, as the beautiful music filled the sanctuary, you just knew the angels were singing. Handel's breath-taking music proclaims the magnificent gift given Mankind, first prophesied and then fulfilled. The Son of God Incarnate.

Christmas is not a Hallmark card with Snoopy in a manger. Christmas is not Barry Manilow singing "Seasonal Carols" or holiday cocktails for all Twelve Days of Christmas. In a way, it is not family or friends or traditions, though they are definitely bonuses to the celebration. It is an acknowledgement of the birth of a Saviour. As Handel so beautifully proclaims, King of Kings. Lord of Lords. Hallelujah.

I'm for one am going to take a deep breath. It's time to simplify the preparations so we can acknowledge and reflect on the season. As the T-shirt says, remember the reason. I'm putting my foot down. Happy Holidays just does not do it for me. There are lots of holidays. There is only one birth of Christ. So, to all who believe:

A Very Merry Christmas