No doubt about it, Christmas is Coming! As we shop, we hear Christmas music, old and new. As we drive down the streets, we notice places we usually just pass by. . . Christmas lights, blow ups (or collapsed) vinyl figures, sometimes manger scenes attract our attention. Churches are decorated (we took advantage of that fifty-six years ago for our wedding), Christmas cards arrive (I gave up that practice when stamps soared to the price of a quarter-pound of hamburger. . . Facebook or Blue Mountain graphics say the same thing for less). Daily reminders like, if you don’t mail your package today, it won’t arrive by Christmas, or only ten more shopping days until Christmas Eve, or “Your package will arrive before 10:00 pm on Amazon’s delivery notices. . . it’s getting hectic, isn’t it? Families decide when “cookie baking” day will be . . . schedules are crowded with concerts, parties, events, parades, and it’s easier to say, I’ll just bring something than to get everyone together to decorate cut-out cookies. Or, the frantic email, “Can you send me the recipe for the Happy Birthday Baby Jesus cake? I can’t find it, or the desperate question, “what do you want/need for Christmas.?” or “Who’s hosting Christmas dinner and what do I HAVE To bring?”
I’ve gotten so stressed that about October, I express once or twice, “I’m too tired to think about the holidays!” Maybe it’s because at eighty-four-and-a half, I can’t traipse around huge stores searching for just the right gift, or I long for a peaceful day where I can finish the book I’ve been trying to read for the last two weeks, or because I scheduled my writing group’s Book Signing for December 16th and spent hours getting ready for that BIG deal date on Monday. And let’s not forget, today’s the day I promised to take my sister Dottie shopping at Walmart. She uses a wheelchair which I must push if there are no motorized carts available this afternoon. Why would there be? What WAS I thinking?
Or maybe it’s because for the first time, Ev and I are grounded for nighttime performances. We’re no longer driving at night. We will miss the Space Coast Symphony Orchestra’s Sing Along Messiah for the first time, and missed the grandkids’ school concerts this week. There’s a bit of sadness and nostalgia there for sure.
Yesterday I wrapped packages of the things I’ve been squirreling away for the last month or so. Then I realized, I have a lot more shopping to do before THE BIG DAY. Also, I think we’re hosting Christmas at our little apartment–presents, dinner, the whole shebang. I can seat ten around our little table, I can get two in the kitchen at the same time, I can find seats for maybe five without using the chairs from the table for the circle of present opening. We’ll manage. And after that “big event,” Ev and I will celebrate our anniversary on the 28th and we’ll do the whole day New Year’s Eve day at Paul and Mary’s and WHEW, the holidays will be over and the new year can begin. Let’s see, what hors d’oerves do I need to make for that day? Ah. . . dips, hot cider, cookies, cheese and veggie tray (Sherry will be in Thailand), and snacks for Rose Bowl Parade time. Sure, we can do that! Then, after it’s all over with, we’ll sleep in our recliners, not really caring that it’s 2025 and we’ve been retired since 2006, and that’s a long time ago!
Then we get to denude the tree, pack away the nativities, the few I still have, stuff the closet with the bins and tree box so it’s unusable space once more, take the Christmas paintings down, redecorate for “regular” life, and way, “Whew! we made it!” if indeed we do! We’ll dwell, for a little while, on new memories made, if they’re not replaced by the nostalgic ones, we’ll feel a little sad for the residents here at Glenbrooke who had no family visits or who ate in the dining room wishing they were surrounded by family, or hearing, as I heard yesterday from a lady I’d just met, “I haven’t opened a Christmas preent for fifteen years since my husband died. And his presents were always a bit odd. He loved outdoor things like hunting. One year he gave me a new string for my bow, and another year he gave me a shotgun. Now, nobody gives me presents.” Meanwhile, the lady across from us bragged she’d just sent four boxes to Maryland with thirty-five gifts for her kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, but she’ll be here with her husband while they celebrate thousands of miles away. Christmas is hard for some people, so we’ll treasure ours. Even though we don’t have a home anymore, we’ll make the improtant things happen–the hugs, the “Grandma, I love you,” when I’ve guessed right on that present or ornament, or when we actually get to watch their dance program next weekend because Nancy will be our chauffeur. We’ll take our ballerina and her sister flowers, and I’m sure watch in awe as Kaley performs for the first time in her toe shoes, and I’ll have tears in my eyes–grateful to be here to see it.
Yes, the season is special when we remember that God loved us enough to send His Son, the greatest gift of all time, and the reason we celebrate the season.
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