Gaining Wait in 2013

Today I awoke and stood still.  The quiet house whispered, “All is well.”  After so many days of merry-making laced with going here-, doing this-, making that-,  I greeted today with NOTHING on my agenda.

Naturally, the house and family ALWAYS offer a solution to the age-old ponderance:  “What shall I do with this unscheduled moment?”  But, today I stepped beyond hearing range of the To Do List and settled into the lull of a place. 

And here I sit . . . simply sitting (and sipping tea, of course).

The Christmas tree twinkles over there; the Nativity shines over here; Christmas extends its reach to January 6^th for us.  We will have yet another wonderful celebration on the 6^th, but for today it is quiet.  We are quiet.  I am quiet.

So, as many (most, probably) have trundled away the tree and set about tackling resolves to de-clutter, de-stress, de-weight, I slip back into the lull of Christmas that enveloped the manger scene even as the wise men made their way to the blessed meeting. 

I guess you could say I’ve decided to turn the tables and gain weight wait this year.  And in this waiting my expectations grow and delight me with the prospect of meeting, greeting, and embracing the Christ child; for surely, at least one of those wise men scooped that babe up in his arms and played the “coo-ing” game complete with smiles of pure joy and baby-game conversations like, “Oh aren’t you beautiful?  Yes, you are.  You’re so sweet I could just eat you up!” and then proceeded to nibble on those newborn toes with delight.    

[Okay – maybe not the nibbling-toes part.  That probably would have been in the recorded version if women accompanied these learned ones.  But, I digress . . .]

After all, God came to man as a baby – fully God/fully human – and who can resist an adorable baby?  Being fully God did not erase that heavenly “baby smell” each birth brings; nor did it envelop him in a corona-like force field that kept mere mortals at bay.  As in his later life, so in his birth, Jesus came to be embraced.

In these quiet moments before meals commence and dishes stack, I simply sit in this lull . . . in this wait . . . and find something still and small and special. 

 And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. 

And, behold, the Lord passed by, 

 And a great and strong wind rent the mountains, 

And brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; 

But the Lord was not in the wind: 

And after the wind an earthquake; 

But the Lord was not in the earthquake:   

And after the earthquake a fire; 

But the Lord was not in the fire: 

And after the fire 

a still small voice.

1 Kings 19:11, 12

 I hope to gain a LOT of wait in 2013. 

 

Christmas 2012

 

 

 Dear Friends,

 

The time has so swiftly arrived for the annual Christmas greetings that I have been caught off guard.  Literally!  "So soon?"  I stutter and scramble to assess all that the year has held and given and taught.  Each year I choose a new word, a special word to guide me through the year to come.  Unlike resolutions that get laid aside quite quickly, this word floats along atop the many waters I navigate each day, hour, moment which add up to a year.  2012 became my year of "Celebrate" and it has proven to be a year chock full of parties and guests and opportunities to ring the bells of joy.  Tears and trials mingled right alongside the luaus and vacations making for a memorable and busy year . . . like all the rest.   2013 will be the year of "Cultivate." 

 

I have planted the seeds of so many hopes, dreams, and wishes over the years and those require tending and nurturing to bring about fruit.  This year I set aside to truly dig deep and wide and lovingly into some of those things that have yet to blossom or sit ripe for harvest.  My biggest project these days involves teaching the girls a college-level course in world literature.  My many years of study and preparation in this area make it a joy to read, write, and discuss the best the world has seen in written words.  The diversity of languages and cultures and beliefs conveyed through words makes for a banquet of choices.  Though the girls have read and studied practically their whole life, this is a time for us to line up "The Greatest Hits" of Shakespeare, Chaucer, Milton, and so on.  We find it stimulating, interesting, and often times quite unusual as we follow the footsteps of readers of all times.  We meet at a local Starbucks coffee house and mimic the days of Samuel Johnson, when coffee, friends, and ideas naturally flowed together.  Though the internet has expanded our access to knowledge and virtual relationships, we are trying an experiment in reaching out to those right here in our midst for the formation of groups of people discussing life and all it entails.  Each week as we select a coffee or tea paired with a tasty sandwich we strike up a conversation with somebody new.  When we seat ourselves amongst bags of books and notepads, we catch the eye of those around us and receive curious smiles or questions.  Few people today actually read the classics, it seems, but they all acknowledge the "coolness" of doing so.  Last year as the New Year rolled around I hatched this idea of meeting in the coffee house just to see what would happen.  It took some time to get the whole thing going, but we are fast becoming a fixture in the place and may be expanding our size as others have expressed interest in forming a once-a-month writing club.  You can't imagine how many people dream of writing a novel or memoir or screenplay.  Being a dreaming writer myself, I have taken the step to form a club and see what happens.  Of course, writer's block set in almost immediately for me, but then that's all part of the purpose of a club -- to encourage us to tackle the trials as we seek to leave some sort of legacy of hope and love in a world so tragically in need of a touch . . . a hug.

 

The world news leaves me frightened and stunned.  Pick a nation, ANY nation, and you will find poverty of pocketbook or spirit.  Pick a people, ANY people, and you will find evil in the midst of good.  I weep as I read and then I fall to my knees and implore the Lord to make people behave better; sadly we have the gift of free will and we can choose.  Why choose evil?  Why not choose good?  Why not choose The Best?  I have taught my children manners and morals and stressed compassion and love, as have parents the world over.  I hold to the hope that good triumphs.  Recently we had a friend with us for dinner.  He is a World Vision Philanthropy leader.  He travels the world over giving aid, seeking, aid, reaching out with love in the form of food, supplies for relief or farming or education, and most of all sharing a vision that each person CAN make a difference.  The hours he spent with us encouraged and inspired us, as he always does with a simple message:  Love without counting the cost.  I asked him many questions about China and the people he has met with.  He smiled and told of all the "regular" Chinese folks he has been blessed to meet; and he happily shared that the people of China, like Americans, Norwegians, Egyptians, and all the rest, value their families and children and parents more than any form of government or power-play or material good.  Chinese parents strive to provide the best life they can for their children in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours.  As the carols played through the air and the candles burned low we reached out and prayed for each and every mother-father-child-friend-neighbor in hopes that joy, true joy, would be felt round the world.  

 

As my children grow and take on their own direction in life, I find myself Celebrating and Cultivating more than ever.  Matthew, now 24, lives a home-based life with as many choices as he can handle.  The special little boy side remains with him, but an even more special and delightful young man has blossomed.  He continues to grow and learn and be himself in the most beautiful way.  Only God knows the whys and hows of all the trials and challenges each one faces, but God is faithful to supply comfort and joy in all cases.  Elizabeth is now 23 and quite the busy young woman.  She has much to fill her time with socially.  She hosts the college/career group from church at our guest house each Sunday.  A great group of young people meet, eat, share, laugh, learn and encourage each other to step up to the plate and share their gifts with the world.  Come January, she will be attending a local college with courses in business and accounting, in addition to the Literature studies here at home.  She dreams of running her own business someday.  Currently, she works with Gary assuming many of the assembly and inventory tasks, as well as taking on outside projects, like being the chairwoman of our annual Christmas Tea event at church -- 300 women gathering for a full tea and a special program takes A LOT of planning, and she did it magnificently.  She has dreams that call to her and she keeps seeking the fulfillment of them.  That's an exciting thing to stand by and witness.  I think her 2013 promises to be very busy/exciting/wonderful.

 

My "little ones," Lydia and Rachel, are no longer "little."  They both stand eye-to-eye with me (with Rachel continuing to grow taller than all).  Good genes and nutrition have benefited them.  I am surprised how small so many of their peers are.  I think we have a nutritional crisis in this land of plenty (but that's a whole different rant).  Lydia graduated from high school a year early and has begun college studies in writing and Literature here at home.  She pursues her harp as a career, but her heart hopes to be a writer.  Local restaurants and cultural events at home and in the community provide ample opportunity for her to share her gift of music.  Rachel, now 14, is also beginning to perform on the piano more regularly outside our home.  I am encouraging them to write music for Harp/Piano duets as they are nonexistent.  So far they are in the "working-it-out" stage.  There's always a new project or challenge around here.  Rachel continues her studies, though she has completed most of her high school requirements already, mostly in Math and Science.  She will begin Latin and Astronomy in the New Year.  Her goals are quite unique from her older sisters' and that makes me smile.  The greatest joy in life is pursuing what you love.  We follow our dreams around here and we continue to find ourselves in some pretty amazing places!

 

Gary continues to develop new projects for the company in Southern California and, surprisingly enough, our small manufacturing business has remained vital despite the poor economic climate and the stiff competition from Chinese products.  Because our product is designed and manufactured here at home it costs far more than a Chinese import; but we have managed to harness a niche market of custom-laser needs that continues to order specialty items of higher quality.  What a blessing!  Gary is also pursuing his dreams of exploring/inventing new things with magnets and power and LEDs and all sorts of ""weird" stuff.  Scientists dream just like writers do, except they speak an entirely different language.  We have a houseful of dreamers with ideas in all shapes and sizes.

 

And so I arrive at the end of another busy-exciting-exhausting-hilarious year here at Wisteria Cottage.  I continue to explore cooking and writing and gardening and hospitality and teaching and on and on goes the list.  I am BUSIER than I have ever been, but thankfully I enjoy (almost) every minute of it.  The ups and downs of life take my breath away, bring on tears, break my heart, and warm it all at the same time.   Life confuses me even as it delights me.  I have hope that as I grow in age I grow also in wisdom so that I may be able to encourage, nurture, love, and cultivate the very best in my life so as to have the very best to offer up to those around me.  The beauty all around at Christmas time never fails to call me to a better place in my thoughts, hopes, and dreams.  Christmas began centuries ago in a stable ripe with the sights, sounds, and smells of animals unaware of the magnitude of the blessed gift of hope that Mary laid in the manger of scratchy straw.  We have wrapped the idea of Christmas into sparkly presents and lavish feasts and blinking lights, but we can never deny or obscure the naked Truth that came to life that night so long, long ago.

 

I hope this letter finds you well and blessed and full of good cheer this December time.  

 

Much Love,

Debbie and family          

Sunday Wonder

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

 

Now the God of hope 

fill you with 

all joy and peace in believing, 

that ye may abound in hope, 

through the power of the Holy Ghost.

 Romans 15:13

*

For Unto Us a Child Is Born

How Sweet the Gift.

Hallelujah!

Simply Christmas

Holiday To-Do List (update):

SIMPLY CELEBRATE

For it is good to be children sometimes,

And never better than at Christmas,

When its mighty Founder was a child himself.

~~ Charles Dickens ~~




But Jesus called them to Him and said, 

“Let the little children come to Me, 

And do not forbid them; 

For of such is the kingdom of God.

 

Luke 18:16

I have found a deliciously quiet moment – a moment without an activity or a preparation for an activity or the jammy-seeking tiredness that follows the close of an activity.  You know of what I write:  parties, teas, performances, crafts, table settings, dish washings . . . the list trails off in a delightful peppermint-stripe of fun and frolic as we gather together to celebrate the beauty of our happy walk toward Christmas. 

Though I do nearly nothing in the way of shopping conventionally, I do go all out in flinging wide my door to gatherings big and small.  A friend drops by to deliver goat’s milk because she was caught in a traffic jam when Gary came by to purchase and I put on the kettle.  A delightful time strolling through the gardens (unseasonably warm and still in bloom here and there), followed by a fragrant gathering in the tree’s glow as we sipped strawberry-vanilla tea and nibbled at some dark chocolate became a gift.  She pronounced it the nicest tea she had ever had – did I mention she’s a garden gal who loves the outdoors more than I?  I’m sure her teatimes generally include a mug in hand taken to a bench under the fig tree.  To simply sit and chat and sip proved a gift to all of us, as my girls gathered around eagerly.  Girls-and-tea-and-such just happens spontaneously around here, while the boys snicker from another room or pass on through swiftly, pausing for a sweet and portable treat before vanishing.

Speaking of treats, tomorrow a dear friend-like-a-sister and her daughter-like-a-niece will be joining us for a Cookie Day.  Gingerbread and Sugar cookies will spread out in all directions and the frosting-sprinkles-candy-sweets will rain down in happy abandon.  By afternoon’s end we will have decorated, sampled, dressed up, and even dropped a few of the plethora baked in anticipation.  Like Santa’s elves we will create magic and then we will send them out on plates for this neighbor or that, to friends here and there in our town, taking care to reserve sufficient supplies for our own holiday merrymaking.  My sister arrives on Christmas Eve, thus missing this event, but we will surely duplicate it while she is here.  You can never have too many cookie days, can you?

For those of you that know I tend to “healthy eating” and whole-food mania, you can rest assured that I have fortified our family body with ample broths and meals in prep for the sweet-treat onslaught.  White sugar and flour will be welcomed for the season as I have yet to find a suitable “sugar” cookie made from coconut crystals and whole-wheat flour – but I haven’t stopped looking!  I had thought of sharing from my treasure trove of sweet, simple, and healthy recipes for parties, but as time has slipped and I have sought serendipity over stress, that post will have to wait for another day.

As I gently roll my mind back over the past year I smile and celebrate the word “Serendipity” – my chosen word to guide 2011.  At so many unknown turns in the road called 2011 I fell back on my special “word” and let the stress roll on by, murmuring gently to myself, “We’ll see . . . we’ll see what God has in store.”  Though I could seldom find a rhyme or reason for some of the stuff, I did find comfort and pure joy in leaving off the stress of trying to control it all.  I simply rode the waves and laughed (between screams) despite the raucous ride.   I held tight to those I love and reminded myself to breathe as life’s coaster dipped and whirled and navigated the loop-de-loops set squarely in my path.  Whew!  It’s been quite a ride, and I’m ready to board 2012 with equal delight and anticipation.   In fact, I tasted the sweetness of freedom with such relish this past year that I have already chosen Serendipity’s close friend as my word for 2012: 

Celebrate!

Not being one for surprises, I have decided to unwrap the gift of “Celebrate” early and put it to good use right alongside “Serendipity.”  So, if you stop by this Christmastide don’t bother looking for me on the fringes with a bedraggled smile and a load to carry, I’ll be the one right by the tree with a cookie in hand and a teapot at the ready.  Serendipity taught me that life doesn’t need my fears and worries in order to find the joy; in fact, they obscure the way and siphon the energy that is better used for broad merrymaking than for sweating small details.  Opening up the heart and hands, throwing wide the doorway to possibility, and letting expectations blow away has blossomed into a truly wonderful year filled with simple moments of unexpected joy.  Please join me in Celebrating all that will come to us and upon us this Holy Season of the gift of great joy for ALL people.    

 * * *

Now, if I don’t manage to find my way back here before the special day arrives please accept this as my special gift:

From My Family to Yours

 MERRY CHRISTMAS!

* * *

* *

*

Sunday Wonder

And the angel said unto them, 

Fear not: 

For, behold, 

I bring you good tidings of great joy,

Which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day 

In the city of David 

A Saviour, 

Which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; 

Ye shall find the babe 

Wrapped in swaddling clothes, 

Lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel 

A multitude of the heavenly host 

Praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, 

And on earth 

Peace, 

Good will toward men. 

Luke 2:10-14

My Holiday To-Do List

Live Simply. 

Love Generously. 

Care Deeply.
Speak Kindly. 

Leave the Rest to God. 
~~ Ronald Reagan ~~

Sunday Wonder

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea 

in the days of Herod the king, 

behold, there came wise men 
from the east to Jerusalem, 

Saying, 

Where is he that is born King of the Jews? 

for we have seen his star in the east, 

and are come to worship him. 

 

and, lo,

the star, 
which they saw in the east, 

went before them, 

till it came and stood over 
where the young child was.

When they saw the star, 
they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.

Matthew 2:1-2, 9-11

Respite Wednesday . . . uh . . . Thursday

The days flow rapidly one into another around here due to the many parties, performances, more parties, more performances, more . . . well, you get the idea.

A whirlwind day-trip to LA for a tree-trimming party provided loads of fun and pure exhaustion.  I came home determined to R-E-S-T in the brief window until more birthdays and other holiday fun pop up on the calendar. The phrase Too Much Fun comes to mind but I quickly whisk it aside as I do the kermit-cupcake-crumbs and the popcorn kernels evidencing the steady merry-making around here.


Here in the quiet of the morning, a little thought keeps swirling around in my head as I plan, prepare, and promise more things for the holidays:

Be the gift

I sit back quietly with teacup in hand, 

I close my eyes so as not to see 

the overly-scribbled calendar notations,

"Be the gift," sighs the morning fire.

  

I sweetly think of the best gifts I've ever gotten for Christmas.  

True to proverbial wisdom, the best gifts were not things at all.

"Be the gift," my still heart croons.

Hearkening back to last Sunday's evening cantata 

wherein Lydia performed O Holy Night,

(Now THAT was a gift, indeed!)

I flashed a smile to the organist
as the lights flickered the audience to be seated.

Later, the organist asked my daughter to convey
thanks to me for the smile -- 

"Most people don't even notice me,
let alone smile at me," she offered.

 "Be the gift," my journal notes.

The gift of :

a smile

 a hug

a wave

a cheerful greeting

free

readily-available

much-appreciated

Be the Gift

Celebrate in a truly old-fashioned way,

Remembering why we say

"Merry Christmas"

Remembering why we gather together, gifts in hand.

For God so loved the world that he GAVE his only begotten son

John 3:16

*Be the Gift*

Joy to the World!

A Morning Cuppa and a Christmas Cookie

Quiet reigns.  Peace floods each corner of the cottage.  Covers stir.  The teakettle sings “Good Morning!” as it does each morn, but somehow it feels different today.

The rains have broken and the sky shines with the brilliance of a sun sorely missed of late.  Droplets dance on the barren tree limbs like a dusting of diamonds, while a sprinkling of red berries call birdies to feast with abandon before the next chill wind blows.  Like a child, I secretly wish for a “White Christmas” despite weather predictions of soggy at best.  The warm inviting sunshine snickers at the thought of snowflakes, but I remain open to all possibilities.

Possibilities . . . such a delightful word, so ripe like a sackful of Santa’s toys or a stable brimming with hopeful celebrants. 

Our Christmas celebrations this year remain a mystery of possibilities because I have made good on a promise to open wide to the freedom of serendipity.  My New Year’s resolution for 2011 can be summed up in one word:  Serendipity.  And as has become tradition, I “try on” the coming year’s resolve like a party frock before the big event just to make sure it fits and all.  Thus far it fits like a dream!  : D

In years past I meticulously planned special moments of joy and fun.  This year a tumble of unexpected (and not wholly pleasant) events made planning far too challenging, so I tossed the planning guide aside and decided to try something new:  Just go with the flow.  Picture a woman slipping off a familiar perch of rock down into a serendipitous raft passing at just the precise moment to catch her up and carry her downstream over rills and curls, eddies and swirls.  A bit scary?  You bet!  Fun?  When I catch my breath from too much laughter I’ll let you know.  I’ve never laughed so hard, slept so peacefully, eaten with such relish, and danced with such joy.  Each morning I arise, put on the kettle, grab a treat (just one won’t hurt a bit), and soak up the quiet time of praise with my Lord, as I await the day’s unfolding with a child-like sparkle in my eye.  What will today hold?  I have no idea . . . and I giggle.  I unwrap each moment like a child beneath a gift-laden tree.  Unable to “predict” anymore, I just tear away and take a peek.  Truly the adage “Today is a gift, that’s why it is called the present” sums it all up beautifully.

Impromptu dinner parties happen with the laying of an extra placesetting and the lighting of candles.  Voila!  Instant party!  The chili stretches to fill all the bowls like a widow’s blessed oil. 

A “Cookie Bake Day” invite to one of Rachel’s friends became a rollicking adventure in cookies, frostings, red hots, sprinkles, and more as her mom decided to stay rather than complete her To Do list for the day.  Mixers whirred, tasting tongues lapped up buttercream, and jolly holiday music danced above the sugar-plum elves.  We laughed away the weariness we shouldered at the start of the day.  As we removed aprons, swept up sprinkles, and collapsed into comfy chairs for a restorative cuppa tea (and a cookie, of course) we KNEW we’d spent the day well despite the fact that our lists lay idle and unmarked.  Tomorrow will be soon enough for dusting.

As The Day of Christmas approaches we already have numerous celebrations under our belt.  We’ve celebrated St. Nicholas Day and Hanukkah, Santa Lucia Day (Rachel’s birthday) and even watched for a lunar eclipse on the Winter’s Solstice (cloud cover prevented the tiniest of peeks).  Premiering films The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and Tron caused our family to uncharacteristically journey to the theaters and don funny glasses.  Puzzles and games stack up alongside books and dvds as we play each and every day.  Even practice times for upcoming Christmas performances become a celebratory event as I mute the ongoing cd carols and pause to enjoy the heavenly sound of a harp singing joyfully about that Holy Night wherein Away In a Manger lay our greatest gift of all:  HOPE.

We have but a few days left till the world explodes in a unified shout of “holiday” cheer, but as usual we dance to the beat of a different drummer (he gets quite a workout around here) and have been celebrating non-stop these past few weeks.  I read that it takes 21 days to form a new habit.  I think we have just crossed the threshold of day 21 and now habitually celebrate daily.  I think I am well on my way to enjoying 2011:  The Year of Serendipity.  I’m so glad I’ve given this bold resolution a trial run during this advent season.  Who knew one could find so much fun and pure joy in each day? 

Another Letter from Lydia

Dear Friend,

 I love Christmas. Every ornament placed on the tree holds some sort of happy memory for my family. We call it our memory tree. All of the decorations are set out and ready to help us celebrate one of the happiest seasons of all.

I’ve been spending several afternoons and evenings behind closed doors making Christmas presents. I always like to make home-made presents for people at Christmas. Normally I don’t really get into doing a lot of crafts or projects, unlike my sisters who always have something they’re working on. But every year in December, I become infected with the wonderful Christmas spirit and my crafty, artistic side leaps into action.

 

However, one crafty thing I love to do all year round is knit. I like to knit hats, scarves, and I’ve even knitted a purse (it came out little lopsided but I’m still working on those). I first learned to knit a year ago in august. My Mom, my sisters, and I went to have tea with a friend and she taught us how to spin wool into thread and to knit. I did not really enjoy spinning but I fell in love with knitting. I found it difficult at first but after a few days I improved and my project (I started with a scarf) slowly grew. Now I can knit with very little effort and sometimes I can’t decide whether I want to spend an hour knitting or reading.

    

I also love to read. Two of my very favorite books in the world are Gone with the Wind and Up a Road Slowly. What is more fun than getting lost in a good book? Well, I suppose other people could think of things they would rather do. I even would sometimes rather spend time writing or just daydreaming. Reading novels always encourages me to write, especially when I read books about writers, like Up a Road Slowly or Emily of New Moon. It’s always encouraging to read those books and see that the dilemmas and problems I come across in my writing are normal for a writer and can be overcome. I wonder where these authors get their ideas, what inspires them? I get many of my story ideas from just daydreaming. There is a swing set in our gardens near the pond and ever since I was very little I’ve loved swinging. The motion of swinging and the beauty of being outside stimulates my imagination. I always love to swing as the sun goes down. I like to think about fantasy worlds, days gone by, and days to come. What will the future bring my way?

Sometimes I look forward to falling asleep at night and dreaming. The other night I dreamt I was on the beach right as the sun was setting into the ocean. All of the golden colors, the pink and yellow and orange that lit the sky and reflected on the bluish gray sea, painted a breathlessly beautiful picture that I still see clearly in my mind. I woke up longing to be at that beach, walking barefoot on the sand with the ocean roaring beside me as the sun goes down.  Next month, my Mom and Dad plan to take my brother, younger sister, and me to the beach in our motor home for a few days. I look forward to smelling the salty sea, hearing the ocean roar, and watching the golden sunsets.

I wish everyone in the world sweet dreams, a very merry Christmas, and a happy New Year.  

    

Sincerely,

Lydia      

 I so enjoyed being the hostess at our family's  

Colonial Williamsburg table setting 

at our church's annual Ladies Christmas Tea.

Sunday Wonder

 

And all they that heard it 

wondered at those things 

which were told them 

by the shepherds.

 And the shepherds returned, 
glorifying and praising God 
for all the things 
that they had heard
and seen . . .

  
Luke 2:18, 20

Join others in celebrating the Spirit of Christmas at 
Spiritual Sundays.

On a Quiet Hillside

 * * *

The house glows with the beauty and joy of Christmas.  A simpler approach this year left some of the glitz and glitter in the box to save for another year.  Carols hum dreamily on the playstation3.  Last year Gary replaced my 200-disc-changer with the PS3.  I pouted and mourned the loss of the familiar but ailing player . . . until I got the hang of the new gadget.  A year later I have loaded nearly every cd we own (MANY!) into the slim little box and labeled them by genre.  Now with a few button pushes I can choose an artist, an album, a genre, a track . . . the list of options just goes on.  My favorite choice?  Genre SHUFFLE!  By selecting Christmas genre and Shuffle we have every album randomly accessed.  It’s like I have my own DJ.  It drives my kids a bit bonkers to have a snippet of Handel’s Messiah follow Judy Garland’s Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, but I think it feels wonderful to “shake it up” a bit.  It’s like having a smorgasbord of music (and you know how I like choices). 

My love of variety spills over into our celebrations as well.  No single “Tradition” exemplifies our Christmas.  Some years we pick a country and celebrate as they do.  We’ve celebrated in all the ways of our ancestors, including:  Germany, England, Norway, and France.  Other years we agree on a theme such as “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”  (Some of you may remember that as I blogged it – see the Christmas archives for some fun photos and reminiscences.)  Each year our menus change as do the guest lists, with some years finding me stuffing tables into little-used corners as we accommodate a crowd, while a different year includes a quiet candlelit meal for just this family.  Sometimes we dine buffet style, other times in elegant courses of five or six.  Whereas the Thanksgiving menu and traditions rarely vary, the Christmas month has no road map.  We like the adventure of Christmas as we journey to the Stable each year to pay homage to our King.  That has become our sole tradition.

This year we will celebrate without extended family as they all have other engagements.  Though we will miss everyone, the gift of a quiet Christmas is a rare treat indeed and we intend to celebrate it joyfully.  The early part of the December month hangs heavy with birthdays, teas, and all manner of gatherings, but the last stretch lies calm and quiet like a shepherd’s plain in Bethlehem.  The still, silent nights will leave us time to hear and see and receive Christmas as the shepherds did so long ago.  I have no idea what will transpire.  Will a chorus of angels break through the night sky?  Will we be treated to a warm and cozy togetherness such as Mary surely smiled to receive on that birth night so long ago?  Regardless the details, our calendar will remain intentionally open to the unexpected, unplanned, and most welcome miracles of this precious season.  We shall come to the cradle with open eyes, open hearts, and open days to celebrate the newborn King.

Being largely “unscheduled” this season I have already seen a rare gift in serendipity.  At the library’s monthly booksale last Saturday I came across a book of eight Hanukkah tales by Isaac Bashevis Singer.  I added it to my bundle; at a mere 50 cents I couldn’t resist the pristine hardcover book with a child’s name self-scrawled on the inside cover.  The little book of tales fell among cookbooks, classics, and even a Colonial Willliamsburg Christmas craft book (Lydia’s tea table next Saturday will be decorated in this style – how wonderful to find a step-by-step craft guide for that fruit pyramid we are planning to make).  I always find the most wonderful treasures as I hunt the shelves and tables of donated books.

Once home, I brewed a pot of tea and set about sorting and leafing through the stacks of books; like our music, I sort books by genre – how else to find anything in this cottage of books!?!  The Hanukkah tales fell into my hands right away and I made my way to the cozy chair for just a peek.  I ended up reading some aloud, wiping tears in between the memories of God’s miraculous ways in the life of His chosen people.  I had expected an informative book about the events of the temple and the oil and all the other bedrock traditions of Hanukkah, but what I found surprised me:  Memories woven across eight nights to inspire families to gather, remember, celebrate, and endeavor to be instruments of God’s miraculous ways. 

The recollections of hardship, suffering, loss, grief, and destitution mingled with laughter, games, and feasting all wrapped in the warm glow of candles burning in the window or by the doorway to invite others to celebrate.  Memories of a Grandpa played out alongside other fairytale-like miracles of rescue from starvation, loneliness, and even Nazi oppression.  Among the tales wafts the memorable smell of latkes frying in the oil.  Latkes!  Potato Pancakes!  Yes!  My memories dance with remembrances of Gary’s Grandma Walpus standing over a hot pan frying shredded potatoes into a crispy cake to dress with applesauce. 

Though not Jewish, she came from the Old Country (first Prussia, then Germany, now Poland – man messes with borders so often throughout history, doesn’t he?) and brought delicious recipes that she taught to her daughter and even to me, her grand-daughter-in-law.  Though there flows no Jewish blood in either of our families, I do have a tiny delicious connection to Hanukkah and it has been YEARS since I fried up a batch.  

As I told the children of my potato-pancake memories they begged me to make a batch.  (I confess the oil splatter messes up everything and I do not like that – but as the Hanukkah celebration makes oil the star, how can I resist?)    

“How about if we celebrate the last night of Hanukkah with some Latkes, eight candlesticks in a row (with one more to do the lighting), and a few more stories from this book?” I asked. 

“YES!”  They chimed. 

“Can we play the dreidel?” asks Rachel, hoping for a chance to enjoy a favorite (and often times ONLY) game played by Jewish children. 

(Where will I find a dreidel in Grass Valley?  We have but one toystore in town and no synagogue that I know of.  Could be a challenge.   Hmmmmm . . .)

And so an empty spot on our calendar will become a sympathetic celebration of Hanukkah.  I do not know all the details and am not even attempting to celebrate Hanukkah “correctly,” but rather in spirit – the spirit of Christmas that seeks to bridge the world with Peace and understanding; the spirit of Christmas that sent a babe to a manger for all to meet in a common place and find hope, peace, and so much love. 

I can already see that setting out to spend these Christmas holidays on a quiet hillside above the fray will yield most wondrous results and memories, and quite possibly add some new traditions to these days as we pause to ponder and wonder and celebrate the God King come to earth as a child:  The True Gift of Christmas.  

* * *

* * *

Until next I write . . . Shalom!  

****************

p.s.

I just got home from the local bookseller with dreidel in hand.  Much to my surprise I do manage to find everything I need in this little bit of a town -- even a Jewish Hanukkah top!  (Now I'm off to read the instructions and practice a bit before the kids discover my success.)  : D

Sunday Wonder

 One king held the frankincense

 One king held the myrrh

 One king held the purest gold

 One king held the hope of the world

from One King

Written by jeff borders, gayla borders, lowell alexander

* * *

Do you ever wonder what happened to those gifts the wisemen/kings brought to Jesus? 

Did Mary and Joseph use them to finance an escape?

Did they get lost in the shuffle somewhere along the way? 

Did they hold onto them until Jesus came of age and then step aside lovingly to watch him share it with those in need?

Were the gifts on prominent display in the rustic village home of a carpenter?

Or did Mary seal them away as a “nest egg” to be hatched upon Jesus’ marriage?

Did she leave the cross on John’s arm that fateful day, returning home to a hope chest wherein she had loving stored those precious gifts, only to hand them over to another Mary for the embalming of this precious son?

Did it ever strike anyone odd that the gifts foretold death? 

Has anyone ever gifted a newborn babe with embalming ointments?

Have you ever wondered . . . as I so often do?


*To enjoy a gathering of spiritual thoughts please visit Spiritual Sundays

Christmas Presence

 

December has arrived.  

Peace reigns in our home.  

A gentle transformation takes place  around here

as buds of beauty unfurl from roots sunk deep into our hearts.

* * *

“Hush.”

“Listen.”

“He is coming.”

“Prepare ye the way.”

* * *

Preparations begin with flashing needles that knit hearts and hands together for a gift to wrap around a loved one.

Preparations begin with carols in hand and strings tuned up to plunk or plink as a prelude to concerts shared.

Preparations begin with furniture shifted and books relocated to feather our nest with spots for gentle reading this advent season.

Preparations begin to sparkle, twinkle, ring, and sing out with 

the joy of the season . . . the joy in the reason.

* * *

“It’s here!”

“Christmas arrives!”

“Get up and dance!”

 “Celebrate!”

“Sing sweetly!”

“enJOY!”

“Christ is born!”

* * *

Around Wisteria Cottage the girls plan and prep behind closed doors.  “Don’t come in!” I hear as I tap.  “Okay . . . you can come in now,” follows a bustling and bundling away of hidden treats.  Gary hauls boxes to and fro as Pilgrims pack and leave to make way for the Christ Child.  Matthew partners with us in the celebrations as he conquers his autistic need to be alone and joins in the fun as we dance to the delightful Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack (his favorite).  I slip off quietly with pen in hand to drink deeply of the peace and joy and love flowing freely in this home.  Though great losses have rocked our world through the recent years, a house built upon The Rock withstands the storms; and the family within the standing home rises up to celebrate in the midst of the torrents.

Once I thought Christmas needed to be planned, orchestrated, budgeted, and executed like a battle.  I fortified against commercialism and dilution by immersing my family in pageants, programs, parties, and all manner of participation to celebrate the Christ Child’s birth, lest any forget and just make merry.  I exhausted myself and often missed the “Peace on Earth” part.

I no longer work to celebrate.  I simply do it.  I simply pause to ponder all the memories and happiness and sweet joy stored up in our traditions.  I no longer fear I will “miss” something as I stop and kneel in the presence of a season filled with so much to ponder.  I wonder as I wander . . . and it is wonder-filled.

We call our Christmas tree a “Memory” tree and we laugh and joke and even wipe away the tears as we unwrap each bauble infused with a meaning all our own.  

* * * 

“Baby’s First Christmas!” . . .  we tell our stories.

“The very first ornament mommy gave to daddy before they were even married!” . . . we tell the story. 

“The Baby Jesus in the manger!”  . . .   we tell HIStory.

* * *

I no longer worry about missing something at Christmastime for I know full well that a Christmas without a tree or a wrapped gift or even a Crèche would still fill us to overflowing with pure delight in gathering our hearts together (even distance between cannot deter us) as we celebrate with the true Presence of Christmas.