Christmas Shopping

This is a really difficult time of year for me ... for many of us. The season of joy. Now as a Christian, I DO have THAT joy ... the joy of Emmanuel -- God with us. That's something to sing about! to wave my arms about! to proclaim! But the season of this joy spent without my soulmate is sorrowful at times -- painful. Most everyone has at least a bit of that kind of response, right?

I think it took a good eight years for me to stop crying during every Christmas carol sung during Christmas Eve candlight services after my mother died. Now I'm crying again. Why? Christmas Eve marks HOPE for mankind (humankind, to be inclusive). It's a time of great joy, right? So why do I always feel so stinking sad!? Well, of course it's because it's human nature to want to spend those joyful moments with the ones you love -- ALL of them. I keep losing them! God and me ... we have an understanding ... my children are off limits. Ha.

I just paused to give my attention to a package that was on my front porch when I returned home this evening. It was a delightful little package -- puffy and soft, in brown paper -- with a name and address that I recognized. I knew in my heart what was inside that unassuming wrapping. And I wept as I unwrapped it -- got the first glimpse of its texture and colors -- and then nearly sobbed as I read the message that accompanied it. Just at the right moment ... when my shoulders were cold and my heart was heavy -- I draped the beautiful hand-knitted prayer shawl around my shoulders and felt the warmth of the prayers prayed just for me: "Dearest Leslie, May you gently wrap this prayer shawl around you, may you be surrounded by its love, enfolded by its prayer, embraced by its warmth, and cradled in its womb of softness. May you be blessed through the wearing of your shawl, and carried by God's everlasting love." A dear friend -- now so far away -- knitted this for me with her own loving, aching hands -- and, around a gathered circle of saintly women, the shawl was passed through their praying hands and blessed by their loving hearts -- a "tangible symbol of love when words cannot be adequately expressed." Can you feel the love that I feel? Can you imagine their embrace? The warmth? It is inexplicable. Thank you, sweet women.

So with warm shoulders and a lightened heart, I continue ...

My daughter has been in my midst! and, so, my writing has been interrupted. I'm not ready to mandate that the words of my heart come only from a lonely place -- from a hurting place -- but I am ready to say that they do come from an non-distracted place! When she's near, I feel lighter. And I don't have all that free time that I had when I was alone here in my home -- interrupted only by my RBD. This season of joy ... certainly includes the nearness of her light -- her spirit. I only want to breathe that in and, so, the writing gets pushed aside. It's okay. I can return at any time, as I have tonight. (She's out with a friend! ha!)

I had another interruption: my son called! He is working through his last week of his first semester of college. He has lots of projects -- presentations and papers and stuff -- due this week. He had a guitar jury! and a speech to give. He called to receive my advice on how to present a paper that he had submitted! Wow! My brilliant son asked of my opinion :-) I am so proud of him. He has his final exams next week and then flies home to my comfy nest for this season of JOY and PEACE and recovery -- to rest and rejuvenate for his next endeavors. I do feel joy through the success and progress of my children! David and I did a pretty darned good job of raising these young, faithful, intelligent, thoughtful, productive, successful young humans. (I don't brag much, so please bear with me ... I am proud -- in a healthy way! ha.)

But back to the topic: Christmas Shopping. Oy.

Every year, David and I would contemplate the pleasure -- the sway -- of August ... then December. He intentionally tried to make August a month "at home." No travel ... no concerts. He was not always entirely successful, but he tried! And then December ... that "holy" time -- was set-apart (ordained) as family time. Usually, he would have a trip at the beginning of the month -- one concert to open the Advent season -- but then he was HOME. Home. Home. What a blessed word -- a blessed idea. Home. Rest. Family. Preparation. Advent.

One of David's favorite things to do was to go Christmas shopping. Every year we would collide with each other in that wondrous activity! We would set-out with a goal or two -- or none! and just shop -- with the intent of loving-on our family and friends with gifts chosen just for them! It was so fun! I would look at him and he'd look at me -- realizing that there would be no flights to depart upon -- no more concerts -- no separations -- for at least a few weeks -- just the two of us in that moment and the four of us for a weeks (with the mandatory morning fires and the RBD) and we would just sigh audibly! letting the stress of separation and work and travel fade away ... and think-upon those we loved and how we could make those sentiments tangible! Christmas shopping with David was GREAT! and I sorely miss it. He was light-hearted and frivolous! He didn't wince when I spoke of wrapping paper and bows and post office runs -- in fact, he volunteered to deliver boxes of good will to our beloveds. How can I possibly do this alone!?

Yet, I do ... to perpetuate that spirit of giving -- of love -- of good will -- as an example to our children -- to show them what this season of peace and joy and love is really all about. Isn't it curious? that the secular world embraces this "feeling?" this idea ... of good will, love, peace ... Emmanuel. They don't name it -- they don't want to -- but they do it anyway. Jesus wins, though un-named. CHRISTmas. It's right there in all of our faces: CHRIST. The savior. With us. Born. Humbly ...

So each year I gather the gumption to face the joy of Emmanuel head-on. He's here, no matter how I feel -- no matter what I've lost -- no matter my down-troddenness (thank you for your Beatitude ...) I wrap those gifts of love. We face the cold and chose the perfect (yes, not too tall, David ...) tree. We even conjure-up the emotional energy to decorate our home and wrap strings of lights around our blue spruces to show we love our risen Lord! But we still weep for those we love and whom we've lost because this season of joy is not quite complete without them: my husband (my children's father), my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles and dear friends ... and understand like some just don't -- that salvation is the real gift here. Without that gift, we are without hope -- truly bereft.

Thank you, loving God, for the greatest gift of all: a baby. A savior. Christ, the Lord.