Dec 24, 2011 |
It’s not Christmas Eve yet. Not for me.
I’m writing this a day early because even if I have time to write on Christmas Eve, I don’t want to have to write on Christmas Eve. This is my gift to my family: to not behind my laptop during our time together today.
And what a time it will be!
My daughter is taking me to the local movie theatre this afternoon so that I can see one of my favorite movies on the big screen: Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life”. This is a really big deal to me. This is not my daughter’s favorite Christmas movie, so I only watch it when she’s not around. Except this year, I haven’t had a lot of time to myself unless it’s sleeping. So, obviously, I’ve yet to watch the movie.
So when I saw the marquee poster for this, I squealed in girlish delight and embarrassed her by loudly announcing, “This is what I want for Christmas from you!” To which she agreed. Her presence in the theatre, for a movie that means so much to me, with no joking or comments. Just her, me, popcorn, jalapenos, and Jimmy Stewart. Joy to the World!
Now, the movie is a before-and-after marker. Because ever since we agreed to go, everything we talk about has been qualified with “Before we see the movie…” and “After the movie is over…” Things like, call her Uncles who won’t make it to town. Bake cookies. Go to church. Eat dinner at In-n-Out. Watch “Scrooge” (the musical with Albert Finney). Pack for Christmas Eve. Mix up a chocolate martini. And enjoy food. Lots of food. And whatever else we can fit into the Before-and-After categories.
That’s what my Christmas Eve Day will be; at some point or another. That doesn’t include visiting friends the day before, or arriving at my mom’s that evening.
Even though we only live a mile apart, we’re keeping up with the tradition of sleeping over at my mom’s house. There’s only been one year in my entire life that I haven’t spent Christmas Eve night at my mom’s house. It was about ten years ago, in our apartment when Dot and I thought we’d wait for Santa at our place. Considering once he stopped at our abode, he also left instructions to find more loot at Grandma’s, it definitely wasn’t a restful night.
Ever since, it’s been back to Grandma’s for some Family Togetherness. The kind that makes our family glad these events only happen once a year. But the kind we look forward to nonetheless.
Once Dot goes to bed, my mom and I will stay up and talk about the beauty of her tree. We’ll listen to music, or watch Christmas shows on the TV. We’ll talk about the weather back east and wish we had a White Christmas. When we’re sure Dot’s asleep, we’ll put out her stocking. Then I’ll go to bed.
Somewhere around 3 a.m., Dot and I will wake up and sneak into the living room. We’ll spy where our stockings from Mom are, and see what other small goodies she’s hidden around the room. We’ll try hard not to giggle loudly, we’ll avoid touching anything that makes noise. Then we’ll make our way back to our beds and try hard to fall back asleep.
Enter Christmas morning: we somehow manage to all wake up around the same time. Mom will have the coffee ready, and orange danishes will be baking. Once we grab our morning snack, we’ll meet again in the living room and open our stockings. I’m excited because this year I was able to put together a stocking of goodies for my mom as well as my daughter. I’d tell you what she’s getting, but she reads this so I can’t. Yet.
Then we’ll open a few presents. After a short time, we’ll break for another danish and refill on the coffee. Then we’ll open the One Gift: you know the one. The One that’s saved for last. The Big Hurrah. The One that is bound to render the receiver speechless. That One.
It will be over too soon. It always is. But we’ll sit back, sip the cider, and enjoy the day. Before and After will take on a new meaning as Christmas comes to a close. But we’ll always have the memories we make.
I think that’s the best gift of all.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote.
Dec 23, 2011 |
There’s been a resurgence this year in people saying “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays”. I appreciate it. I really do.
I appreciate it, of course, because I celebrate Christmas. But also because others acknowledge that it’s okay to say “Merry Christmas”.
In recent years, “Merry Christmas” has been replaced with the generic “Happy Holidays”. And that’s a shame. I’m not opposed to saying “Happy Hanukkah!” or “Joyous Kwanzaa” to those I know celebrate those holidays.
This is the time of year when people believe more. In anything. In Santa Claus. In having a Wonderful Life. In Miracles. In waking up to find they haven’t missed it.
I’m not opposed to saying “Happy Holidays” but I prefer “Merry Christmas”. That doesn’t mean I’m trying to force my Christian beliefs on anyone. I’m not being politically incorrect or insensitive by my choice of words. I’m sharing my belief that there is Joy in the World. That the chill in the air should also warm our hearts. That God loves you. That it’s not about who gets what and how expensive the goodies are.
And that’s my hope for Christmas. Every time I say it, wish it, think it.
To me, “Merry Christmas” is not to be taken lightly. It’s announcing that I’m celebrating Faith. Faith that there are better things coming. Hope that you will be blessed beyond measure. And Love. Love for all mankind.
To be forced to be generic with my holiday wishes is to tell me that none of them matter. I’m okay with seeing a Menorah lit up, or the Star of David on someone’s window. I’m okay with the cultural celebration of Kwanzaa. And I’m okay with seeing a huge tree lit up in the City Hall Park.
And so it’s with best wishes for a New Year filled with Faith, Hope, and Love that I wish you all a very personal Merry Christmas.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 22, 2011 |
Here it is. My blog list for Christmas. This is what I really, really, really want for Christmas. For every one of you (and yes, I mean every single one of you!) to comment on this post and let me (and the other readers know) the answers to these 12 Questions of Christmas:
1.What holiday(s) do you celebrate this time of year?
2. What present do you really want this year?
3. What’s the best gift you ever received?
4. What’s your favorite Christmas movie?
5. What’s your favorite holiday meal?
6. What traditions, new and old, do you have?
7. What’s your favorite Christmas song?
8. If you could give just one gift this year, what would it be?
9. How do you decorate this time of year?
10. What’s your favorite holiday memory?
11. What’s your favorite holiday keepsake?
12. Happy Holidays! Share your stories, ideas, wishes, and dreams here.
Dec 21, 2011 |
I just watched “The Nativity Story” on dvd. I’d borrowed it from my friend Julie nearly a year ago but never watched it until today. And I admit, I cried.
Just earlier today I realized there’s only five days til Christmas and I had yet to feel that Christmas feeling. That certain feeling of peace and joy that I get regardless of what’s going on in the world around me. That certain feeling that everything’s alright, even now. That certain, indescribable, feeling.
And I can finally say, while watching this movie, I found that feeling. It’s not about how many gifts we have or don’t have under the tree. It’s not about what foods we’ll eat this weekend. It’s not even about making it to Church on Christmas Eve with the family or visiting with friends through the week.
It’s just about… well, it’s about being still. And being at peace with whatever comes.
I adore this movie for how it portrays Mary and Joseph in their marriage. They’re in it together. He didn’t just hang on the sidelines while Mary and God did all the work. Joseph fought for her, protected her, cared for her. Accepted her completely. And gave his name to her baby.
Mary didn’t just follow him. She respected him. She got to know Joseph as a person, as her husband. She let him share in her pregnancy and didn’t shut him out. She needed him. She loved him.
Now, there are some Christmas stories that are so ingrained in my upbringing that even though I “know” them, sometimes to think about them takes me by surprise. And this movie did just that. I found myself realizing things I hadn’t considered before; things that made me stand more in awe of God and His power; and of Mary and Joseph, individually and together.
Mary could have, should have, been stoned to death for conceiving before her marriage ceremony. Joseph was willing to quietly walk away so that wouldn’t happen. After all, his reputation was on the line. Here he was, a Good Guy, and his betrothed is already pregnant! Mary didn’t have to return to Joseph. She could have stayed far away with her cousin Elizabeth. But that would have meant breaking her promises. And Mary was a Good Girl. So she returned.
After the Holy Spirit refreshed and instructed him, Joseph took Mary to be counted in the census at Bethlehem. And that’s when my thinking really started.
At the age of sixteen, this young woman is pulled from her family, from her mother and father. She is on a difficult trip with a man she hardly knows. And she’s pregnant. Who does she turn to? What does Joseph see in her? Did she cry herself to sleep out of fear and loneliness? Did she trust God completely and not worry at all? Or was it a little bit of both?
What went through Joseph’s mind? Did he know he’d be a good dad, because God Himself chose him for the part? Or was he worried? How did he comfort Mary, his wife yet a stranger, as she gave birth otherwise alone in a manger? Did he feel helpless and alone too?
At what point did Mary and Joseph stop being strangers in each others’ minds; and think of each other as husband-and-wife not in title, but in love?
When Jesus was born, how often did they cradle him and wish it could be different? That they could stop the world from invading their family, stop the evil that required the life of their son? And when the Lord’s Angel sent them to flee into Egypt, what did that do to their plans to return home to see Mary’s family again?
Did Mary ever wish it hadn’t been so, or did she always just say, “I am the Lord’s servant.”?
Here they are, parents to the Greatest Person Who Ever Lived, and they run in the dark, they flee into hiding. Their hearts are always burdened, always broken. Being the parents of the King is not always a joyous position.
But they did it.
No matter what.
They did it. They assumed their responsibilities. And they didn’t let God down.
I’m sure it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fun.
But it was worth it.
It had to be.
They were parents of The King.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 20, 2011 |
The other day I was driving on Main Street when I came upon a slow moving car, following a slow bulldozer trying to make its way in traffic. The three of us, and others, stopped in line for a red light.
That’s when I saw it.
The license plate.
The vanity plate.
It wasn’t anything special. And it took me a moment to figure it out.
And then I realized. I’ve seen that plate before. On a different vehicle. Years ago.
And then I realized…
It must be driven by one of them. A member of that family; his family.
That license plate is a vanity plate belonging to the family of a former boyfriend.
And I’m driving right behind them.
Oh, joy.
It’s been about 15 years since I broke up with him and his family. And every now and then I see him about town. And every time, I get a little snobby. A little proud. A little taller. A little How Do You Like Me Now? attitude.
I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s vain. But let’s be real. If he was a keeper, I would have kept him. Right?
There’s a reason (or two… or ten) why that relationship ended, and I don’t for a moment miss it. I love the person I’ve become since then. But every now and then, I’m reminded that even I am capable of making really stupid choices.
The point is, to pick up and move on. And I’ve done that. Every now and then it’s okay to look back and see how far I’ve come, how I’ve changed, how I’ve grown.
But every now and then, I guess I get a little arrogant. I don’t mean to. But every now and then, I take a little pride that on those few-and-far-between days that he spies me out and about, I still look better than I did. I still stand up for myself, and am nobody’s doormat.
Most of all, the dreams we had 15 years ago… well, mine are coming true. And since he’s still in this general area, I know for a fact his are not.
The light turned green. And in that split-second writer’s inspiration that I get, I thought it was very apropo as I accelerated and drove around the slow moving, road-blocking tractor and car making their turn down another road.
Did they recognize me? I have no idea. I’m not one to keep looking in the rear-view mirror. I just prayed as I passed and happily thought There but for the Grace of God go I.
