January is so LONG...

(((I'm procrastinating putting away Christmas decorations. The tree stands still decorated; the stuff from the rest of the house is consolidated in the den (with the tree), and I need to get on with it. Soon as I write this, k?)))

We had the tree up longer this year than I've ever had it, and that's because I succumbed to the lure of the artificial tree this year. I'll admit it is easy: three sections, pop, pop, pop, plug, and it's ready to go -- well, with a bit of fluffing here and there. It holds our favorite ornaments and there is no hassle about stringing lights. I *never* thought I would get a fake tree.

I did, however, find some good Fraser fir room spray and little hanging thingies infused with the scent that satisfied my nostalgia for the tree smell. And I don't miss dry needles.

But it's over for another season. It's January. The leftover cookies and fudge are wrapped and tucked deep into the freezer. It's time for salad and veggies and sugar-free popsicles. And a positive attitude about the whole thing.

Maybe that's what I've always disliked about January: the resolution and diet thing. Well, that and the fact that I spent a lot of my adult years living in Midwest cities where you got snow and ice and gray skies from November to May. It just seems like January is too long in comparison with the other months (well, there IS August...)

I'm not doing anything especially new this year: still dieting, with good intentions to write daily and continue with yoga and whole body vibration machine and maybe even treatmill. And not to beat myself up over slipping. That'll do.

Onward to those decorations.

Reverb11 - Day 25 - Who I love and the best gift ever

#1 Prompt: Love: Who do you love + why do you love them?  What does it feel like to be around these people?

#2 Prompt: The reason for the season - What's the most memorable gift you've ever received?

#1 -- The person I most love is my husband Tony, who has always on Christmas Day given me either a beautifully sentimental card or written me a letter. He opted for the latter this year and although I love the cards, the letters are the most special, and yes, they get kept.

In it, he writes of the Christmases we've spent together (this is the 15th), how he feels about that and about me and about the myriad of things that I do to make the day special for us, and, well -- a lot of wonderfully loving language that you don't need to hear because it's meant just for me.

How could I not love that? But I knew I loved him and that we were right together almost from the very first day I met him. Every day, every hug, every kiss reaffirms that for me, over and over. And my gratitude for him simply overflows my heart. After all these years, I love his touch, I love it when I see him coming towards me in a group, I love watching his face when he doesn't know I'm watching him. He is my rock, my calm center, my home, no matter where I am. How lucky I am to have this. How lucky we are to have found each other.

There are others whom I love dearly -- brother, sister-in-law, daughters, friends -- but I think the ability to love comes from first being shown great love: the more love you receive, the more you have to give to others. When your own well runs dry, it's hard to find a drop for others. I am grateful to those who love me so well, and I hope you receive back from me that gift.  

#2 -- There have been some wonderful gifts in my past, and a few maybe not so much (think Crock Pot...from my husband ... ex)

The one that I best remember is a personal life album (scrapbook) and family history made by my mother and father in 1997, I think, or maybe 1996. She had been so painfully sick with osteoporosis and heart issues that year that their traveling days had to stop, and she had quite a lot of time at home. She had gone through decades of newspaper clippings, photographs, school records, and the other  keepsake papers, written a family tree geneology for each side of our family. She'd made a collage of pictures for the cover -- and this was not only for me, but she also put ones together for my brother and for my daughter, so each was different, with a few of the same elements.

They began with old pictures of each family -- our grandparents and great-grandparents, along with their names and a brief history. Where there were appropriate photos of us interacting with them, they were included -- like the four generation one of me, my father, my grandmother and my great-grandmother, taken when I was maybe 2 or 3.  She'd chosen photos of me at all the stages (to that point) of my life: child, teen, college student, young married woman, young mother, middle-aged working mom, etc., and of the people who have been so important in my life, along with other little news clips or keepsakes from her treasure box (her wedding hankie, for instance, was in my daughter's album).

It was a beautiful gift and we all three looked at them all day, sharing memories, sharing some of the different elements of each book, telling stories, and listening to my mother and dad tell theirs. I have custody of the albums from which the life album photos were chosen, but none is more precious to me than the one she spent that year putting together for me.

What they cost was time, her time and my dad's, because he was there helping her choose photos, pasting them in, remembering stories along with her. That gift of time and memory is still the best one I've ever received.

How blessed I am!

Reverb11 - Day 24 - More on travel and a free-for-all prompt

#1 Prompt: Travel: Where did you travel to in 2011?  Where would you like to visit in 2012?  What does traveling mean to you?

 

#2 Prompt: Somebody Has to Say It…

#1 -- Already answered this in yesterday's post -- remember, I'm working off two different lists, and sometimes they overlap. But the part about 'what does traveling mean to you' is new, so let's give that a crack.

As a child, I traveled quite a bit with my parents in the back seat of whatever station wagon we had at the time. Since all our relatives were in other states, that meant trips to Minnesota, New Mexico, or Colorado, and all we had to amuse us were books and puzzles, and lots of singing -- my dad had a song for every occasion. More than once I was told to get my nose out of my book and look at the scenery. More than once I whined that my brother was taking up all the back seat, or that he was hitting me, or something. More than once we heard " don't make me stop this car."

But those trips were my travel foundation, and I love road trips best of any travel. It's an adventure getting to the destination (which often is less interesting than the journey) and I especially love taking back roads, which my folks also did. Nothing beats the Interstate system for expediency, but give me back roads for adventure.

Fortunately my husband shares my love of road trips, and I expect there will be several as we enter  into self-directed time in 2012. 

Travel usually includes a lot of eye candy, some interesting and historic places, good food, a few fascinating people if we're lucky, and a great appreciation of our own home. I'm looking forward to our next trip anywhere.

#2 -- Somebody has to say it: life is much shorter than we ever believe it is going to be. Spending that brief time remembering or regretting past actions is a complete waste of one's brief time. Look to the joys, be where you are each moment, love who you can and be kind to the rest.

Merry Christmas, wherever you find yourself. May you feel blessed and content regardless of what you may have waiting under the tree.

Reverb11 - Day 23 - Who I'm missing and Travels

#1 Prompt: Who did you miss?

#2 Prompt: Travel - Did you visit anywhere new this year?  Any plans to travel next year?


#1 -- Who did I miss? My parents, often, and never more than at Christmas time when my memories of Christmases past are so wrapped up in their presence. When I first married, we invited our parents and my brother (my ex was an only child) to come to us for Christmas, and they did for years, modifying that first when my in-laws divorced (after nearly 50 years) and he remarried, and then when my mother-in-law could no longer travel, and finally when my dad died and we went to Missouri every year to be with my mother until 2005 when she died.


That's a lot of years and memories: of putting together the Christmas jigsaw puzzle, usually primarily by my dad, with help here and there from all of us; of playing games -- Trivial Pursuit or Monopoly or Michigan Rummy or Screw your Neighbor -- eating nuts and candy and laughing. Going to church on Christmas Eve, and especially the year that my dad, brother, and husband all slipped in to the late service at the last moment on a very cold Indiana night -- I was already there in the choir loft and we'd all gone to an earlier, child-friendly service. The three of them lifted slightly whiskey-scented voices to the holy candle-lit atmosphere, and none of us could stop smiling.


I miss my friend Julia, again never more than at Christmas. For nine years we sang together at Christmas and other times, we laughed and cried and shopped and worked and shared stories and children. We are growing old together, although we see each other only every few years for maybe a week. I've no doubt that we'll sing again in that great celestial chorus, her short, round, red-haired frame next to my much taller and longer one, smiling all the way, even through our tears.


I miss my daughter, the person she was before illness and other things so clouded and distorted her mind. I still see flashes of that person, but it makes me sad to see such potential and intelligence and charm largely gone, and I am still trying to wrap my arms around who she is now, and who I am when I'm with her.

Always at special times of the year I miss my brother and sister-in-law, who I would like to know better as we grow older and hopefully wiser, and who become increasingly important as I age. And we miss our daughter and grandson, miss being able to know who they are becoming, and especially Gabe as he changes so much as he grows from a toddler into a pre-schooler.

I'm grateful that there are so many people that I miss, though, because it indicates that I am capable of great love, and also that I am the recipient of great love in return. It just doesn't get better than that.

#2 -- Travel is something that is on our minds for this coming year as Tony retires and our time is not bound by paid time off accrual. While I don't know that we'll do any long-distance trips in 2012, we are planning time in the LA area for a cousin's wedding, and also anticipate a trip to Seattle to see our daughter and her family.
Both trips also put us by our beloved ocean, where we've spent our vacations nearly every year since we've been together. Perhaps we'll make a trip further into the interior US to see my brother and other friends, but we'll see how time and money play out. For now, Tony is happy to think about staying home and working on projects that have piled up and that he is eager to begin. And I'm happy to have him here.

In a mood

Not in THE mood, in A mood.

No real reason, either -- nothing catastrophic has happened, far as I know people are safe and okay, reasonably, and I just got back from our Bunco Christmas party which was a fun night of way too many carbs, interesting gifts, and good women who are compassionate and caring.

But right now I feel like I could just sit here and cry until I'm stuffy-nosed, drained, and exhausted.

Maybe it's just the time of year when memories overtake common sense and flood in. I miss my parents. I got cards from two aunts today, and puddled up thinking about the Dahl sisters and how much fun they had over the years. Three of the four sisters are still here; my mother and her two brothers have all died since 2005. My dad has been gone 10 years.

Maybe it's remembering Christmases when I did a lot of singing and loved it -- I still remember some of the choral arrangements of favorite carols, plus other, more difficult Christmas music that was so fun to sing. Or when R was little and we always had a houseful over Christmas, did soup and sandwich suppers on Christmas Eve with my best friend and her family before we sang at the late church service where candles lighted the sanctuary and illuminated everybody's face into beauty.

Maybe it's sadness over how difficult life is on some days for R, especially, dealing with voices and visions that are unsettling, if not downright scary, and not knowing either cause or cure, or even if there will ever be a life again without them for her. The last two days especially have been hard for her, and I even went with her to the grocery store today because it was just too much for her to handle by herself. Sadness that another daughter simply chooses not to communicate with us for reasons we probably will never know. And while we have a relationship with our youngest child and our only grandchild, it is cautious on both fronts and likely will never be the flat-out love affair that I see some of my friends having with their grandchildren -- for lots of reasons, many of which have been outlined in this blog over the past several years.

Life is not quite a Norman Rockwell painting for us as a family, nor, I suspect, is it for most families. We all have our skeletons hidden in closets, attics, basements, and it seems the holidays are a time when those ghosts loom large. It's shoulda-coulda-wouldas piled on top of a pot full of present-day reality for most people, I think.

And yet we are most fortunate too: we have a wonderful home in a good community, we have many friends and acquaintances, we are as busy as we want to be, we have enough resources to take care of ourselves (at least, god willing, at this point). We have each other and find support and love and acceptance in that every single day -- a HUGE blessing and gift, especially if you've known a past relationship that hasn't been all that great. Far as we know, we are free from life-altering disease or conditions. We are limited more by our own motivation or lack thereof than by exterior issues.

Acknowledging that holidays and events and mood swings sometimes throw us for a loop is a good thing, I think. Dwelling on things I cannot change or over which I have little or no control is not a good thing. Accepting that it is okay to feel sad sometimes, to feel a little cheated in some respects is okay. Remembering and accepting that I am neither perfect nor do I have to appear to be perfect to anyone is especially a good thing.

Susan Elliott, whom I have quoted before in these posts, writes in "Getting Past Your Past,"
"Don’t distort the holidays. It’s approximately 35 days between Thanksgiving and New Years. And there is always a January 2nd. Don’t compare your insides to other people’s outsides. Yes, you need to grieve what was and what will never be, but it’s not quite the giant bundle of greatness that many people are thinking it is. Don’t distort what was."

You can read the whole post here.

It's a good thing to read now. And re-read again. And remember that this, too, shall pass.

Life is short. It is too short to put up with people or things that bring you down. It is too short not to be grateful for it every moment, every day, to be glad for some wee part of your life that is good -- and everyone, EVERYONE, has something.

Ghosts of Christmases Past

Christmas Eve and it's raining outside -- which we've badly needed, so I'm not complaining. We aren't going far afield this Christmas -- mostly home, with a couple of gettogethers with our great neighbors and friends.

But my Christmases past always are with me on this eve, most of them sweet and poignant, some very memorable.

Like the year in Zionsville that I was singing in the choir, and we had not only an early service especially for the kids, but also an 11 p.m. service with a choir concert beginning at 10:30.

My folks were in from their winter place in the Rio Grande Valley, my brother was in from Nashville, and baby, it was cold. Indiana winters are not for the thin of blood.

We'd had our usual Christmas Eve dinner, probably with my friend Julie and her family, and I think we'd gone to the early service with the kids. I headed back to church about 9:45 or so, in time to warm up my voice before the service. I remember it was slippery in patches -- snow on the ground. R was headed to bed, and everyone else decided to stay home too, which was fine.

But they didn't. We were singing the first hymn, probably "O Come All Ye Faithful," and who should I see hurrying down the side aisle but my husband, my brother, and my dad, all grinning like Cheshire cats. They sat in the second or third row -- the church was packed, as usual for Christmas Eve, and they grinned at me (and Julie) for the entire service.

One of the hymns was, of course, "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," to which my husband had altered the words to be "Hark, the hare-lipped angels sing." Which he was singing.

My rubber face, which shows every emotion, was taxed to the max that night as I struggled to maintain some composure in the choir loft.

It was a sweet night. They'd decided I shouldn't be alone (never mind that the church was full and I was surrounded by choir friends), and lifted their various whiskey tenors in song, probably with whiskey fumes wafting over the nearby pews.

Another Christmas, same church: Julie's dog Oreo had had puppies a few days earlier -- and they were all dead or dying of parvo virus, including Oreo. She, our friends Nancy and Marcia, and I all cried all the way through the service.

I loved the 11 p.m. candlelight services there, and also in my church in Birmingham. There's not a late service to be found here, however -- they're all done by 9 p.m.

My parents are close by every Christmas Eve -- I spent only a few without being with them until their deaths. Most are filled with warm, fuzzy memories, of filling stockings and going to church and singing and watching lights twinkle on the tree. We often had guests at our table -- people who were alone, or traveling, or neighbors, or friends. Sometimes we'd do big dinners, other times it was wonderful soups, breads, cheeses, and decadent desserts, and always cookies baked both by me and my mother.

I miss them. I miss some of that warmth of those years, some of the fun of having a younger child in the house.

And yet there's joy these days as well, for close friends and neighbors, for each other, for being where we are, and for being so blessed. I don't sing in a choir anymore (although I may eventually again -- I do miss that), and we don't belong to a church. But we belong here, and we are grateful for the love and caring with which we are surrounded, and for the peace of the land.

Celebrating connection

Today was a gift of friendships, a celebration of connection -- but that's the way I feel about this entire holiday season this year.

Actually it began yesterday with lunch with our youngest daughter, a visit where we brought her Christmas gifts (except that we forgot one at home and didn't even realize it until much later! So we'll gift her with it again soon.) and heard about plans and her day-to-day life as a sort-of stepmother. It was pleasant and we're grateful that she seems to be doing well, and even heard what sounds suspiciously like maturity creeping into her stories.

And today was a Christmas brunch and gift exchange with the Cowgirls -- we're beginning our fourth year? Third year? Anyway, it was fun, funny, touching, and the gifts so reflected each giver. I do treasure these women for their wit, their intelligence and insight, and their diversity.

And then we had yet another gift of connection in a neighborhood gathering where we nibbled on delectables and watched an incredible sunset redden over the Yolla Bollys and coast range, and caught up on each other's holidays.

How blessed we are!

The year's end always feels a bit to me like heading down a corridor and opening a door at the other end. I know where I am, I know where I've been, but I'm not at all sure what's on the other side of that door, and it feels both a little scary and a little exciting.

I'm also aware more than ever of how quickly time passes. Blink...the leaves are popping. Blink...it's 115 degrees. Blink...another birthday approaches. Seize the day!

Christmas greetings

To those faithful readers who have checked this site nearly daily for the past two weeks and found nothing new, thank you for your patience. I'm brimming with thoughts and promise to put at least some of them into words soon. Very soon.

We are home from our quick sojourn to Tennessee to share Christmas with my brother, sister-in-law, daughter, and .. .yes... ex-husband. It was wonderful. It was not without stress, but then few things ever are, apart from quiet weekends at home. It was good to open gifts and share meals and cooking and familiar goodies. It was good to listen to jokes I'd forgotten and personality quirks I hadn't. It was good to be with family, who love you warts and all, and who you love back despite and because of theirs.

Our flights had some delays both ways, but it was not as bad as it could have been and was for others flying United (although Tony swears that his former loyalty to that airline is so over now). The weather behaved. No luggage was either lost or -- surprise -- examined. Tony's come home with a cold, but we think he's nipped it in the bud between Airborne and Wellness Formula.

The kitty boys cuddled immediately. We missed them.

Life feels very sweet. It will change, to be sure. But for today, it is good to be where I am.

I hope your holiday was joyous as well.

Grateful days

Everything changes -- nothing stays the same.

And I'm happy to say that my brother is doing much better and in fact is shooting pool probably at this very minute with friends in Las Vegas, something he hasn't done in six weeks and which he was pretty dubious about doing for a long time because of his shoulder injuries. Oh, he doubtless has more difficult steps on that journey back to full health, but this is a welcome layover for now, and I am grateful.

Ditto with daughters 1 and 3, at least for now... while there are and probably always will be stuff to deal with, problems to face, hardships to overcome, both seem to have found a respite at this moment. For that, too, I am grateful.

When pain and difficulties seem unrelenting (even when they really aren't), finding an oasis of calm and peace and pleasure can give you the courage to step out again and continue down the harder path. It is a gift from the universe, I believe, that time.

There are always going to be people who are better off, happier, richer, healthier, more famous. There are always going to be people who are not. Being somewhere in the middle is where most of us come down most of the time. And in whatever circumstances you find yourself, there IS something to be grateful about.

Part of an e-mail I received today was about gratitude:

"Life Is a Gift

Today before you say an unkind word -Think of someone who can't speak.

Before you complain about the taste of your food - Think of someone who has nothing to eat.

Today before you complain about life -Think of someone who went too early to heaven.

Before you complain about your children -Think of someone who desires children but they're barren.

Before you argue about your dirty house someone didn't clean or sweep -Think of the people who are living in the streets.

Before whining about the distance you drive -Think of someone who walks the same distance with their feet.

And when you are tired and complain about your job - Think of the unemployed, the disabled, and those who wish they had your job.

I'd add one: at this Christmas season, remember that the cost of one dinner out can provide a hardworking local family with some Christmas blessings -- food cards, new socks, a warm blanket -- things most of us take for granted. Please consider a donation, however small or large, to an agency such as Adopt-A-Family. You can even give online with a few clicks. What you do today can change a life -- not merely a Christmas -- by helping someone find their own gratitude.

Slow it down!

December is flying by -- it's like the wind that's been around here for several days is urging the sun to scoot across the sky and night to come more quickly.

Our days are shrinking -- slightly less than two weeks and we'll be at the shortest day of the year, the Winter Solstice. And then it's a rush to the New Year. At least days will begin lengthening again as we continue with the second half of winter.

It's not that I mind winter. I rather like the cold days, the clouds, the rain and wind. It makes me want to curl up with a book, cat in my lap, and sip tea while I read something delectably trashy. (Like I've allowed myself THAT particular luxury... ha!)

And I don't miss the sunshine much. We have so much of it in the summers that I like to soak up the clouds and cool.

No, it's that the days go by so quickly, with sunrise at 7:20-something, and sunset before 5.

I've also been knee-deep in deadlines, as if merely accomplishing Christmas tasks weren't enough -- and they've taken second place to the other deadlines. There are no cookies nor breads baked, nothing is wrapped -- very little has been purchased or done, and what's going to be mailed has gotta be ready in a week. I did get a few decorations up yesterday so it looks festive, and we've been enjoying Christmas music immensely.

A word on that: the Trans-Siberian Orchestra has a couple of Christmas CDs out that are just dynamite played on a good system -- they're good regardless, but we've enjoyed them even more with new equipment.

Do you remember the Christmas lights video of a couple of years ago? That was set to one of the Trans-Siberian cuts, "Wizard in Winter." The creator of the lighting display has done several more since, actually creating a company as a result of the popularity of this display.

Anyway, the music is quite fun.

So I always have good intentions of making gifts -- sewing, or taking photos, or baked goods -- and sometimes I actually do it -- but I don't think this is the year for much. I think I'll get a little baking done, but not a lot -- and we don't need it anyway. I'll send fudge and maybe a couple of other things..

The wind has been really wild and is supposed to get more so tonight, I gather. And yet the leaves are still clinging to the trees like fleas to a dog! They're ugly and brown and tired, and yet they still hang on. I guess we need a hard rain and more wind to help them let go.

I suppose we cling to old ways like that, hanging on until they're shriveled without a speck of moisture or life left. Takes a hard rain -- or the cheese moving -- to make us let go so that the new leaves can be nourished, and eventually bud and furl out in the spring. And that will come all too soon, I know, blowing in with the wind.

Once more I'm trying to stay in the moment and not obsess over what is undone or unwrapped or unpurchasd or yet to be sorted. It's a daily effort, isn't it.

Listen to music. Savor the moment. Enjoy the friendships. Stay in touch with family. The rest of it just isn't as important as all that. Cookies can be purchased. Gifts don't have to be extravagant, nor even perfect -- everyone I know enjoys the intangible gifts of the season more than the purchased ones anyway. Oh, I've got things I must do -- but I'm going to have fun along the way too.

Blogging in my head

That's what I've done all week -- written blog posts in my head -- but I haven't had enough time to let them flow through my fingers onto the screen. New articles to write, places I have to be, tasks that must be done...

But here I am right now. There's a big pot of braised shortribs in sauce simmering in the Crock Pot, filling the house with a wonderfully spicy-tomato-y scent. I should let it sit overnight and skim off the fat, but it smells too good to wait -- so I'll skim off what I can from the top of the pot. These are good, Tehama-county-grown beef shortribs, too. I cut the very last of the Swiss chard from the garden this morning, so we'll have that along side, and I'll probably cook some whole wheat wide noodles too, to soak up that wonderful sauce. Yum. (Can you tell I'm hungry?)

I pulled up the tomato vines today and tossed what was left to the deer, saving a few green tomatoes for us. It's time for the garden to be done. I thanked the earth for all the wonderful food we enjoyed this season. In the next day or so, if I can find an hour, I'll RoundUp the whole thing to get rid of all the awful weeds we had this year. Then I'll pull up the dead stuff, till the soil, and layer newspaper and the good, dried manure that's waiting in a small trailer. Next summer ought to be a really good growing season!

Another article in the Record Searchlight -- and today I got a call thanking me for the story. Seems Gottschalks called and volunteered to wrap gifts and to donate a few more; a cookie store is making cookies especially for Adopt-A-Family; and they've gotten another few volunteers. That just makes me glow. I've got two more stories done that probably will run this weekend, and am talking tomorrow to one more person about the program. This has been a fun run.

But it's kept me hopping!

Saturday evening we went to the Red Bluff Christmas parade -- Tony took some photos, and I watched. It was a mild night for November, although I was in layers and my gloved fingers still got cold. I watched two younger teens next to us, dressed in sockless tennies and capri pants, eating cotton candy and watching the lights. They spoke to us a few times -- very pleasant girls. It made me remember that age -- BEING that age (yes, I can still recall that in this aging brain) -- with all its insecurities and dreams and desires. They were young enough to be unselfconscious about how they acted as they watched -- still slightly gawky in bodies that haven't reached full maturity yet. One had carrotty-red hair that could have been real; both wore a little makeup, but not excessive.

I wondered what they want for Christmas, if they have boyfriends, how they behave around their parents. I wondered what they like about school, if they participate in clubs or activities. I wondered what they dream about being when they grow up. They're still young enough to get excited about Christmas -- and I hope they each get something they really want, and have a Christmas tree, and are with family who love them.

I guess that writing these stories and talking to volunteers and staff, and browsing through some of the families in the Adopt-A-Family program has really heightened my awareness of how hard some people struggle to make things work, and how very, VERY lucky I am and always have been.

I'm a huge believer that we make our own destiny -- and that there are angels who are there to help us along the way, mostly unrecognized by us. For many of these families, the volunteers who offer gifts and food and money may be their angels, and just may make the difference between giving up and continuing to work hard. It's touching, and inspiring. I hope my stories make a difference -- from what I've heard, they have.

I am not going to have to search for the Christmas spirit this year -- I don't even mind the carols already playing in the stores -- although I was listening to Pavarotti singing "Ave Maria" in Latin in Walmart (of all places), and overheard a woman saying, "That music is just driving me NUTS!" (okay, no accounting for taste. Maybe she prefers "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.") I'm looking forward to cookies and music and lights and the pungent scent of pine trees, and to watching bubble lights perking away on the tree. To hearing from old friends, and to writing them back. To remembering Christmases past, and being thankful.

I am looking forward to being with my brother and sister-in-law this year, and with my daughter -- this will be the first Christmas we've been together since Mother died, and I have so missed that family connection. Even though there's still all the shopping and wrapping and stuff to do, it's okay. I'm just grateful we'll be together, and that we have enough....of everything.

McMurphy update: he had one more (unanticipatedly is that even a word? expensive) test and seems to be fine. He is so happy to be home and with us, and seems a little quieter than he was before he got sick. We are so glad to have him back.

And that's all I have time for today. Hark, how the bells...

A tapestry of relationships

For some years now I've sent greetings to friends and family for New Year's, figuring that it'd have more of a chance of being read (yes, I write one of THOSE letters).

Usually I get them in the mail shortly after New Year's Day. Not this year. They're going out today.

Looking at all those names in my card list, though, conjures such memories. I send mostly to family these days with a smattering of friends from our previous lives, and it seems that every year a few more drop off the list. Lives go forward, and sometimes it's time to let previous relationships go.

There's a popular e-mail piece titled "A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime" which speaks to the relationships we encounter throughout our lives. I can look at my Christmas card lists and clearly see these different friendships through the years.

I'm a very loyal person, however, and I'm also a very curious one. I want to know what's happened to these people I knew and loved long ago: what did they do? Were they happy? What was their life like, at least until now? If I knew their children, what happened to them? Are they still married (or did they get married)?

When you let a past relationship go, it's like reading a story without ever knowing the ending.

And yet I can admit to myself that I really have very little in common anymore with many people I knew 20 or 30 or 40 years ago. We were friends then for specific reasons: our lives shared common elements.

I can point to the seasonal friends, the ones who came into my life either to teach me something or for me to teach them something. Once those lessons were learned, we took them away with us and our paths split. And yet my life would have been so different had I not met them!

Most precious, and most rare, are the lifetime friends. Family members count here: even when we see each other rarely, we share a connection that transcends life experiences. Oh, we might not be close either emotionally or physically, and our lives and belief systems may be very different, but we are family.

I can count on one hand my lifetime friendships, though, and these are precious. These are the friends who know you and love you, warts and all. They are the ones with whom you can pick up where you left off, even if it's been years since you've seen each other. You have a soul connection.

When I address envelopes and fold letters, and add little personal notes, I hold each person in my mind, and send them love and blessings for where they are now. No matter if they're reason, season, or lifetime friends, at least for those few moments I remember our relationship and give thanks for it, acknowledging its importance to my life and to where I am now.

I may never know the endings to all the stories I have in my Christmas card list, but my life is a tapestry of those story threads. And as I send letters to those who still have running threads in that fabric, I am grateful that I am still part of their story too.

My current book is Picoult's The Perfect Match.

Gifts under the tree -- and in the spirit

We have a tiny little (fake) tree I picked up when I was shopping the other day. It's pre-lit, so itty-bitty little lights twinkle on it, and I've hung just a few of our treasured ornaments. It's on a table in our dining room, right by the table in front of the big window, and I'm just amazed at how it cheers up the room. It's not the real thing, but it'll do very nicely.

And there are packages under it. Lots of not-very-big stuff for Tony, some goodies for me from Santa, and some survival packages for V. And one package that I know has something very nice in it, for me from my honey.

It's been tradition -- born of procrastination, to be sure -- most years before to wrap packages on Christmas Eve. Maybe not all of them, but certainly a good showing. Even the last few years when we'd travel to Springfield, I'd send a big package ahead with wrapped gifts in it, but I'd also always go shopping there for stocking stuffers or an outfit from Dillard's petite department for Mom (they had a better selection than most stores I frequented in the Bay Area). So we'd always end up buying wrapping paper and ribbon and tape. And we wrapped.

I think that tradition is going away this year. I've already sent gifts to Jimmy, Rachel, and Brigitte. Everything I've bought is wrapped, and I have no plans to go out again....well, except tomorrow morning to the post office to retrieve a package. But no stores, ergo no wrapping.

And this has been the most relaxed December I've had for many, many years, at least in terms of preparing for Christmas. We've watched Christmas movies on TV, listened to most of our Christmas CDs, baked cookies and bread and made candies.

One gift: I don't have to travel! Oh, I am so grateful to the universe for the almost snow-free Christmas travel weather we've had for all those years of returning to Springfield! If we didn't drive the 1800 miles through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma -- and certainly those areas of I-40 can get some serious weather -- we'd fly, usually through Denver -- and at about this date in December. We would definitely have been among those 5000 folks stranded at the airport.

Two years ago there was a nasty snowstorm south of Springfield that delayed the kids and Jimmy driving for a day (and there was considerable drama because of it that year, too), but we'd arrived just fine, and no snow in Springfield.

Maybe four or five years ago a snowstorm hit Springfield on Christmas Eve and made driving hazardous, but we stayed snug and warm and well fed. And safe. It was pretty well gone by the time everyone had to leave.

Another gift: I'm not responsible for feeding everyone all the time. We're sharing Christmas Eve and Day meals with good neighbors, and we will enjoy good food and fun conversation. I'm bringing a dish or two, but that's easy. We'll just go and have a good time.

One more: the wood stove warms the house, the angels in the alcove above it watch over us, we have plenty to eat and books not yet read. And we have time to savor it.

Yes, I miss my parents, old rituals, the kids, my brother. Sometimes it weighs heavily on my heart and leaks through my eyes. But I also realize how blessed I am to have my loving husband, our wonderful house, our kitties, and to know that our family is safe and warm where they are, and that they are where they should be for this year. And that's the biggest gift.

'Tis the season to be stressful

Maybe it's just me, but I'm feeling a lot of free-floating stress this week, and it's a little frustrating when you're trying to continue to conduct business!

I know it's less than a week until Christmas. I know everyone is finishing up cooking, cleaning, wrapping, shopping, preparing for guests or whatever.

But I'm starting to feel like I'm the only one left who is still trying to attend to commitments and business affairs. And it's not like I'm all done with everything, either -- I still have shopping and wrapping to do.

Maybe it was unrealistic of me to think that we could conduct routine business meetings and finalize some issues. I guess. Unfortunately the business world doesn't stop even when Christmas is approaching. Oh yeah, for a day, maybe. But deadlines loom, decisions have to be made, and nobody seems to feel the urgency that I do. So is it just my tendency toward anal-retentiveness that is causing me such heartburn over this???

I'm beginning to wish it was just over for another year.

We decided this morning to take a pass on decorating a tree this year, after an unhappy attempt at purchasing one yesterday from one of the big stores here. It was mid-afternoon on a weekday, and NO one was staffing the area where the trees were displayed -- the real ones. When we finally tracked someone down, we were told that all we had to do was to get a big flat cart -- and then the staff member left. No help on pricing, trimming, wrapping. So we left too, very frustrated, and unimpressed with customer service.

We haven't had trees every year, to be sure -- we've traveled seven years out of the last last 10 Christmases so have had only two trees, although we've had Christmas decorations up. Our kids won't be with us this year. It seems like just one more thing that needs doing, at least right at this moment, and even if we left it up until 12th night (January 6), it still isn't very long to have it up. It was my suggestion -- and that was before I started feeling so frustrated about business affairs!

I guess it's just one of those days where things don't seem so merry and bright, and I'm missing family and my mother and father, and remembering (doubtless through a somewhat rosy filter) Christmases past with great nostalgia. Fortunately I'm also aware that these emotions will change quickly, and that this, too, shall pass.

Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. Cherish the moment and give thanks for what is right and good in our lives, and remember that the only person I can change is me.

'Twas a dark and stormy day

It was a good day to stay in and bake cookies.

I don't think it got completely light until about 9 a.m. and it was starting to get dark by 3. We have rain and drizzle, with more of the same predicted for the rest of the week, although daytime temperatures aren't bad -- in the 50s. This weekend will see lows right around freezing. Snow could come as low as 1500 feet, but I doubt we'll see even a flurry here. Which is just fine with me.

So I baked Jule Kage and two kinds of cookies, filling the house with yeasty, cardamom-y, buttery aromas, and listened to carols from Mannheim Steamroller and John Rutter. It was a cozy sort of day, and I expect to have a couple more this week, as business is very quiet -- not at all unusual for December in any kind of market, but this one is slow anyway. And I've still got killer fudge (this is almost mine -- I use unsweetened baking chocolate instead of the semisweet) and peanut brittle to make in addition to several more kinds of cookies, more bread, and a new holiday cake/loaf that sounds really yummy.

Baking is one of my favorite things about the holidays since I seldom do it the rest of the year -- we just don't need those extra calories. And even though it'll just be us here to enjoy it, I'll give lots of it as gifts. It's very comforting to make so many of the same goodies every year, although I always have to try a few new recipes. I remember baking the same recipes, years and years ago, and where I was and what was happening in my life then.

The fudge recipe is one I found in a Zionsville, Indiana, church cookbook sometime in the '80s, and have made it ever since. It never fails, is completely rich and chocolatey, makes a full, creamy 11x15 panful, and my brother raves about it. Even my daughter eats it, and she's not a chocolate lover (amazing, I know)...

Christmas is the only time I make it, and I savor every single piece.

And then there's peanut brittle. Now my orthodontist doesn't read this blog (at least I hope) or I'd be hearing about the evils of such candies, but honestly, homemade peanut brittle made with real butter and raw peanuts, cooked to a lovely brown, and then spread in a buttered pan, pulling it as thin as possible, is one of the joys of the season. Mother had two recipes from fellow teachers, and I'll usually make both. The recipe card, in her handwriting, is stained with butter and sugar from years and years of making it.

When I was working full time back in Alabama, I'd get up very early and mix a batch of cookies and refrigerate it until I could bake them. I'd do marathon baking sessions one December weekend and freeze everything. I'd always swear I'd start in November the following year, but that's never happened. I need the carols, the wintery weather, the time pressure! to feel the baking urge. Or the Christmas shopping urge, for that matter. Nope, I'm not done. Nope, nothing's wrapped (and won't be until I need to mail packages to the kids and my brother and sister-in-law).

But I'll get there. I always do. It just takes a little December winter to get me in gear.

Shared ritual binds us

I dreamed of my mother last night and trying to feed her, nourish her. There was plenty of food,and somehow we ended up with two turkeys in the oven. She was very fragile, and didn't quite understand what I was trying to do. I'm not really sure, either, except that was going to be a lot of turkey.

I miss her.

I miss being in Springfield for Christmas, going shopping there for last minute gifts, waiting for everyone to get there, bringing my mother a Clementine and some Jule Kage that I'd brought from home.

I miss the rituals we'd established there, and those we'd carried over from another life.

We're creating new ones, I understand that, but creating anything is hard work, especially in the beginning. Last year, the first without Mother, was hard, but in some ways this one feels harder, a little sadder.

Author Robert Fulghum wrote about ritual, especially family rituals. As we acknowledge the events, the losses, the beginnings in our life through ritual, we also honor the spiritual in them and in ourselves.

When we have wild rice and bacon and Jule Kage for breakfast on Christmas morning, we are continuing a ritual from my childhood when we'd visit Duluth. Many of my cousins also fix wild rice. It connects us in honoring those traditions and our grandparents and parents.

There are cookies and candies that I always bake at Christmas, from recipes my mother printed by hand into a notebook of her favorites. She is there in the kitchen with me when I stir flour, butter, and pecans together for Daddy's (and Tony's) favorite, Pecan Shorts.

We all have rituals around family, especially at holidays -- things we always eat, stories we always tell, songs we always sing, fights we always have.... Ritual connects us, binds us together. It honors our dead and celebrates our living.

Our family won't be here this year -- but I know what my brother and my daughter will be eating for breakfast on Christmas. I know there will be certain cookies in their homes, and that they'll hang stockings knitted by my mother nearly 30 years ago. And in those shared rituals, we will be together.

On the path -- by grace and faith

When I wrote about finding my path to Christmas, someone left a comment that the path may be grace and faith this year.

As a life-long United Methodist, I recall many sermons based on the scripture from Ephesians that says "For by grace are you saved through faith; and that not of yourselves. It is the gift of God..."

And I thought, "Well, okay. I don't know that I'm there anymore." I haven't been an active church goer for nearly 10 years, although I certainly have put in lots of time within church walls singing, chairing committees, attending services, cooking for potlucks, and meeting many friends. At some point the church community itself became the primary reason I participated.

And then during a rather dark, searching, questioning period, many things changed in my life, and I gradually grew away from the organized church.

But my spiritual path became even more important to me. I studied. I read. I prayed. I talked with people who were on non-traditional paths as well as those grounded in the traditional church.

I found in me a spirituality that doesn't exclude what I grew up with and participated in, but is at once all-encompassing and loving and compassionate. It is not a "church" or organized doctrine with a name; it just IS.

So I thought about the "grace and faith" comment this week, and about my values and beliefs.

Grace is defined as "...unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification..."

Regeneration means "... restored to a better, higher, or more worthy state.." and sanctification is "...to impart or impute sacredness, inviolability, or respect to..."

Faith has many parts to its definition, but I like this: "...firm belief in something for which there is no proof.." It is from the Latin fidere: to trust.

At a gathering tonight, I talked with friends, my beloved husband beside me. The fellowship, the sense of belonging and being exactly where I am supposed to be, was strong and positive (and such food! with enough sugary-delicious desserts to satisfy even my demanding sweet tooth).

Lighting our path home, the full moon was unencumbered by clouds on this crystal-clear verylate Indian summer night and made the landscape bright and the shadows very deep. It hid the stars we know are there...but we know they will be visible when the moon goes dark again in its unfaltering cycle. That is faith.

And I realized that this is by grace, this being here and now, being where I am, who I am.

It is through faith that I am here at all -- even in the darkest, hardest parts of life, I have always trusted in a Higher Power/God/the Universe, rocksolidsure in the belief that the path is there
for me to find and that I am rightly guided if I simply open my heart and mind.

So tonight, in an unexpected way and place, I found the path to Christmas. And indeed, it is by grace and through faith. Blessed be. Thanks be to God.

The countdown to Christmas has begun

This week starts the long (but not very) slide into Christmas. The newspapers are heavy with ads and many trees have been sacrificed -- we recycle the papers and ads, but still...

I'm not ready for all that yet. We'll get a tree and do some decorating, but not just yet. Shopping will be minimal -- my brother and the girls won't be with us this year, so I'll send boxes, but mostly it'll be gift cards, I suspect. I'm not ready for carols, either. Check back with me on Friday, Dec. 1. Maybe then.

Holidays are hard when you're changing traditions, and any death necessitates an adjustment in thinking. This will be the second since Mother died, the eighth since Daddy. We were in Springfield since 1997, but before that were always with my parents, my daughter, and nearly always with my brother. It's different now that there is no reason to go to Missouri, and everyone lives so far away that it's not easy for them to come here, or too expensive at this time of year, or too busy. It just IS what it is.

I'm finding the ramp-up to Christmas a little difficult already: I'm getting tons of catalogs in the mail, and I see things Momma would have liked in many of them. When we bring out the decorations, the stockings she knitted for all of us will be in that box. Her handwritten recipes are ones I use often at Christmas.

I can't bring myself just yet to get an artificial tree -- even though the piney smell is not as strong with the trees here, it is still there, and I can close my eyes and remember how Daddy and I always put lights on while Mother watched and directed. It conjures memories from very long ago Christmases, like the one when I was six where I faked sleep when Daddy came in to check us (although I did fall asleep pretending to be asleep). Or the one when I got up at 2 a.m. to find my new bicycle under the tree, and Mother made me go back to bed.

I love tangerines. When we were kids, there always was a tangerine in the toe of our stockings, along with hard Christmas candies that would stick to the wool, and sometimes when we'd pull them out of the Christmas barrel, there would be one sticky old candy from the previous year clinging to the inside of the stocking. I can breathe in the scent of tangerine and be a little girl again, for a moment. And I love the sweet bite of the juice when I've peeled the little orbs and popped the first segment into my mouth, spitting seeds into my hand. I confess that my favorites now are Clementines, those tiny orange *seedless* globes that are so easy to peel and eat.

I'll get there. It's not December just yet, and I still have a few days left to find this year's path to Christmas, and to begin to figure out what new things to add as I say goodbye to the old ones.