Saturday, December 25, 2010

dear penelolight,

my dad is in the living room watching ben-hur. i moved from the living room for one moment and the christmas music ceased and now the rumbling of chariots echos through the small house. i had blown out the candles, lit since this morning, so perhaps i was relinquishing the festivities to the mundaneness of microwaved hotdogs and the furtive looks of charlton heston. and yet still. it seemed too soon. mom and i did manage to make gluten free skinny pancakes so that tradition long standing since i was a kid may continue unabated. and 'how the grinch stole christmas' arrived in the nick of time yesterday so we could watch it while we lit the fire in the fireplace and sat down to breakfast in the living room. (another tradition). dad the most unfestive among us, who vocalizes no traditional desires, (though deep down in a rent of his heart he has them) also managed to put checks in the tree for mom and me. mine wasn't that big but i won't complain... he does probably think i get enough already.

now the pluckier among us insist there are things to celebrate on this holiday of holy days. and i agree, its the baby jesus. sweet good baby jesus come down to the mess and muck of the world for me. and i am grateful. grateful for the whole configuration of it. that light leading the wisemen and the glory of the Lord appearing to shepards. and marys birth pangs. and josephs fear and awe. but God did design us to need people, companionship- no man an island and it IS hard when you have so much to fight against and baby jesus is still sweet and profound in his manger and you don't have a husband to help you carry it all up the hill. or children to bring good tidings and joy to. think about it. it-is-lonely. it is lonely to be surrounded by a quarrelous faithless family. and no money or flour-filled treats to fill it with. suicide rates increase for the holiday season for a reason. all the pain and the lack are poignant and devastating. but i do agree its a better thing to find a meaning outside of what coulda shoulda woulda be.

and mom and i upon further discussion decided that its because generationally its new. we can only do so much as intrepid explorers of our family to breathe sacred life into events other people take for granted. it's a struggle but it is not without reward. however, i resent the idea that i may never get to carry it on to anyone else. regardless of how loved i feel by friends or by my mother- it is not big enough to fill that lack. and i will even as the tide turns to joy as God IS with me, continue to struggle with the abyss at my shoulder.

but so far as i'm back here and now and not in my head, and the parents are gone to my grandparents house, and my dog is curled up on the couch chair i can tell you the things so far that are warm blankets on a chilled heart:
  • prime rib (day before christmas eve, boxing day and possibly a turkey for new years)
  • christmas trees and making garland
  • friends giving me things i most wanted like butterscotch sees pops and my fish air freshener called gordon and unexpected things like a vase marked with religious symbols and a book on the liturgical season. thoughtfulness washes over me and makes me want to return it.
  • gluten-free skinny pancakes and a big breakfast christmas morning
  • a fire in the fireplace
  • how the grinch stole christmas, a christmas story, a nightmare before christmas and anything having to do with scrooge and tiny tim.
  • a candlelit service (good enough even if its for 2 songs)
  • christmas music
  • time with friends
  • reading with my mom
  • tea and sliced apples
  • dad and mom going to get the tree (dad doing anything with season) a big and stately tree i might add.
  • still being eligible for unemployment (i add that in there as a christmas miracle of sorts)
  • making christmastide necklaces

ok, its time for lunch. some sort of leftover. staring at that bright blue sky. pondering christ come down to earth to save us from the bondage of decay. amen amen.

1 comment:

ashley said...

Dear M - I was going to simply comment, but the box was too small. So I wrote you a letter in response over at kj. Love, Wayfaring Soul