Strocel.com | Christmas

The Practical Miracle of Birth, and Christmas

Amber on December 24, 2011 10 Comments

Christmas is an easy holiday to love. There are trees with twinkling lights, cookies and hot cocoa, holiday parties and feasts, and children singing Christmas carols. And behind it all, there’s a newborn baby, bringing peace, hope and redemption to a troubled world.

I am a mother. While my babies were not born in a stable, and no angels heralded their arrival, I understand the promise and gift of a child. Newborns haven’t yet been labelled or judged. They are pure, distilled human potential, and the moment that they arrive is sanctified and holy, regardless of the location or circumstances. I believe that all people feel this. You can see it in the way that we react to newborns, and even pregnant women. We feel the promise of new life, and it resonates with us. This is the feeling that Christmas brings out in me.

Me with baby Hannah

Every birth is miraculous. It means the continuation of humanity’s existence. It means two people where just before there was only one. It means one person putting herself on the line for the sake of another. It is the beginning of decades of life, and the creation of a new family order. There is hope in birth, and mystery. What will this child become? Who is this new little person? How will this baby change things?

Newborn Jacob, his hair still wet

Every birth is also deeply practical. Both of mine reached a point where I pushed only because I had no choice. Pregnancy takes its course, and a child arrives, one way or another. And then you make the adjustments, because you have to. You get up in the middle of the night and feed the baby, because you have to. You buy diapers and a car seat and little baby clothes because you have to. You eventually figure out systems and rhythms and routines to make the whole experience flow a little more smoothly, but parenthood is far more poopy diapers and 3am feedings than moments of transcendence.

CARAVAGGIO Rest during the flight from Egypt, detail of Mary and Jesus, c1597

Photo credit: carulmare on Flickr

When I consider the Christmas story – a young couple, traveling, welcoming their baby in a stable – I see both the miraculous and practical. Of course, the fact that the story also includes a star pointing the way and a heavenly host praising God amps up the miraculous level a little more than usual. But at its heart, it’s still a birth story. It’s the arrival of a new human being, full of promise and potential, who we hope will grow into someone great.

Tonight, I will make merry and eat turkey and read stories aloud. I will help my children write a note for Santa, and leave out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. I will remind them (over and over) that they have to go to sleep if they want Santa to come, and I will remind them to come and get me before they go look at the tree. I will stay up late wrapping. I will fill stockings and light up the tree. And before I finally go to sleep I will visit my sleeping children, and remember the practical miracles of their own births. Those moments when they came into being, and changed my life, whether I was ready or not.

Merry Christmas! I will not be posting on a regular schedule next week, so let me take this chance to wish you all the best, and thank you for sharing this past year with me. It means so much.

Tagged With: Childbirth, Christmas, Seasons

Podcast: Susan Larkin of UNICEF Canada

Amber on December 23, 2011 1 Comment

Sometimes, an email comes through your inbox that you can’t ignore. That’s how I felt when I was contacted by UNICEF Canada, asking me to volunteer as a Digital Ambassador for their Survival Gifts program. Survival Gifts are real items that are shipped to children and families in need all around the world. They include things like bicycles so that children can get to school or just have fun, support for a child orphaned by AIDS, malnutrition relief bundles and water purification tablets. I actually bought some gifts through UNICEF last year for my mother, sister and grandmother. I believe in what they’re doing, and I knew I wanted to talk about it.

The thing that strikes me about the Survival Gifts is how very affordable they really are. For example, a Learning Bundle with a soccer ball and pump, five storybooks and five school supply sets can help five children get an education, and it’s only $80. I spend more than that on school supplies for one child each year – and I don’t get a soccer ball. A vaccine pack, with 73 polio vaccines, 73 tetanus vaccines and 83 measles vaccines is only $40. In the developing world, these diseases still pose a real threat to the health of children, and yet the vaccines cost so little.

I wanted to know more about the work that UNICEF Canada does, so I spoke to Susan Larkin, the Director of Community Engagement for the organization. She’s a mom herself – she has a six-year-old and a three-year-old, just like me. She explained to me exactly what UNICEF does, and how the Survival Gift program works. Like most people I’m familiar with UNICEF, but I wasn’t clear on what makes them unique. Susan explained that. She also shared tips on how to discuss issues like poverty with children, and shared some first-hand stories of how Survival Gifts have changed children’s lives.

If you still have people to buy gifts for, why not consider something that will have a real impact? You can go online, buy a Survival Gift and print out a gift card. You don’t have to leave your house, and you can do it in a few minutes. And the program doesn’t end once the holidays are over. You can visit UNICEF Canada year-round. Literacy packs make great end-of-year teacher gifts, for example – especially if you suddenly realize on the last day of school that you forgot to buy something. (I can’t be the only mom who’s done that, right?) Plus, you get a tax receipt with your purchase.

It was really great to speak with Susan. I was so proud of myself for getting through our conversation without dissolving into tears. As a mom, I feel the need so strongly. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have medicine for my children, or not have the means to send them to school. I was very glad to hear about a program that allows me to make a tangible difference, easily and affordably, without having to go stand in line at the mall. If you’d like to know more about UNICEF Canada and the Survival Gifts program, or you’d just like to hear how you can talk about big issues with your own kids, listen to the podcast:

Interview with Susan Larkin of UNICEF Canada [ 26:20 ] Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I’m off next week, but I’m working on lots of great interviews for January. I’m even trying a new format for a podcast on family size. I’m really looking forward to another year of talking to really cool people, and sharing their insights and inspiration with you. Subscribe to the Strocel.com podcast in iTunes, and you won’t miss a minute!

Tagged With: Bloggy McBloggerson, Christmas, Giving Back, Interview, Podcast

A Bird Perched on my Christmas Tree

Amber on December 19, 2011 7 Comments

My Christmas tree isn’t stylish. It doesn’t have a theme, and its colours don’t match. Instead of white lights I opted for multicolour, when I bought them at a Boxing Day sale in 1999. They’ve held up well in the past 12 years, lighting a dozen Christmases and many trees, real and fake. They go with my hodgepodge of ornaments – some bought at the same Boxing Day sale, some inherited from relatives, some gifted and now some made by my children and presented to me eagerly long before gifts are meant to be opened. “Look, Mama, look what I made for you!”

How can you not look? You have to look.

I dragged my heels putting the tree up this year. I just wasn’t feeling it, to be honest. In years past the tree trimming left me feeling tense, cranky and tired. My kids wanted to help – oh how they wanted to help. But as they fought with each other and threw ornaments around and tangled the garlands it was hard to take their help in the spirit in which it was offered. And then, over the course of the holiday season ornaments were removed and strewn about the house. They were lost and broken, and I tried to be understanding, but sometimes it was hard. So this year I held off until December 15, even as my children spent weeks begging me to please, please, pretty please put up the tree today.

I dragged out the tree and the boxes of ornaments, and got down to business. At first, things didn’t look good. A few lights were burned out, and while my kids tried to help me replace them they threw the entire contents of one of my storage boxes all over the floor. They wanted to help me deck the tree in garlands, but they tangled everything up and made my job harder. I was beginning to lose hope. My redemption came, finally, when it was time to begin hanging ornaments. Suddenly, magic happened.

This year, three-year-old Jacob decided to take on the task of hanging the ornaments on the little hooks. I honestly didn’t think he could pull it off, but since I have plastic hooks that aren’t sharp or otherwise dangerous, I decided to let him try. I went to the computer to ~~play around on Twitter~~ fire up some Christmas music, and by the time I turned back I could see them. Jacob had gathered all the (non-breakable) Christmas balls, and was oh-so-carefully hanging each one on a little hook, and handing them to six-year-old Hannah. Perched on a stool, Hannah was hanging them one by one, all on the same patch of tree, and singing along to the music. They worked together beautifully, and happily, and I felt the holiday spirit wash over me.

Buoyed by optimism, I got out a special box that hasn’t been opened in years, marked “Precious & Fragile Ornaments”. It contains the very delicate and breakable things that I haven’t dared place on my tree since before I had children. It also contains the true heirlooms. These are the little pieces of Christmas that carry history I can’t stand to see lost. It was better to leave them in storage than risk a disaster, and so I did. The very most precious ornament of all – the one that I value above all others – is a little bird with chipped paint and a long white tail. I took it out and let each child touch it with one finger, and then gave it a place of honour high on my tree.

That bird was purchased 62 years ago by my grandmother, for her first Christmas with my grandfather. It was 1949 and she was a newlywed. It wasn’t the only bird she bought, but the others have been broken or lost in the intervening decades. I remember them from my own childhood, when I would carefully stroke their tails or move them around on her tree. I imagine that my mother remembers them from her childhood as well, a fixture of holidays since before she was born. Now just one survives to tell the story of all those Christmases. All the years, and the people who came and went. People like my great-aunts who are no longer with us, and my own grandfather who passed away in 1998. It saw them in happy times – festive times. Does it remember them? Will it remember me?

This year, that bird will watch as my own babies race towards the tree on Christmas morning. It will see new faces filled with joy, and hear new voices. And I will feel the solid weight of tradition and family and holidays, as I see it looking down on us from its perch on the tree that I didn’t really want to put up. Sometimes, I guess, Christmas happens because of you, and sometimes it happens in spite of you.

Do you have any special ornaments on your Christmas tree? Tell me all about them!

Tagged With: Christmas, Memories, Navel Gazing, Seasons

The Christmas Concert

Amber on December 15, 2011 1 Comment

It’s Thursday, so I’m Crafting my Life! I invite you to join in the fun. If you would like to share a story from your own journey, please drop me a line. If you’d like to find out more about my online class on living with intention and my upcoming e-book, visit craftingmylife.com or subscribe to my mail list.

My daughter, Hannah, is six years old. She goes to grade one at our neighbourhood public school. Like school children all over the world, she recently participated in her school’s Christmas concert. There was a whole lot of practicing leading up to the show. It started in mid-November and culminated this week in dress rehearsals and performances for the rest of the school and finally the big day itself. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard “Paint the Town December” in the past four weeks. Six-year-olds take rehearsing seriously.

Six-year-olds take performing pretty seriously, too. While the older kids at Hannah’s school had clearly been there, done that when it came to holiday concerts, the little kids were extremely enthusiastic. They sang at full volume, performed all their movements with great gusto, and paused every so often to wave to their relatives, who were snapping photos from the audience. To borrow a phrase from sports, they gave it 110%. When they were finished, they took a bow and drank in the applause. This was their moment in the spotlight, and they felt it.

When adults perform as a group they usually try not to stand out. If you’re in a choir, for instance, your voice is supposed to melt in with everyone else’s. The goal is to sound as if you’re all singing with one voice, instead of dozens of different voices. Everything should blend melodically. I’ve sung in a few choirs, and I understand that. In the same vein, any movements you make should be choreographed to perfection. If they’re supposed to be synchronized, they should actually be synchronized. There’s no “I” in team, and all that jazz.

In an elementary school concert, there are nothing but I’s in team. While the kids are more or less singing together, and they try to perform their actions on cue, they’re a collection of individual performers. They’re not a single body performing in unison. Each one will bring his or her own individual touch to the performance. When they mime painting, everyone will be painting their own picture. Some kids will make big sweeping motions, some kids will pretend to jab with their brush, and some kids (like mine) will paint fine details and pause to dip their brush in more paint. It won’t occur to them to try to match up with their classmates. They’ll do it on their own.

There are downsides to the elementary school approach to performance. When we’re all doing our own thing, we miss out on the beauty that can take place when multiple people really work together to create something. When we cooperate with others, we really can do great things, and build something that is much more than the sum of its parts. The choir with the voices that blend in perfect harmony really does sound better. When the Rockettes are lined up doing their “eye-high” kick in perfect unison, it looks spectacular. Sometimes, it’s good to not stand out.

On the other hand, I think that when we start trying to blend in, we lose something. The unbridled enthusiasm of children exists, in part, because they’re throwing their whole selves into what they’re doing without concern for others. They’re acting with passion and doing their own thing, in their own way, without apology. It doesn’t occur to them to stop and wonder what other people will think of them. They’re not in it to make someone else happy, they’re in it to make themselves happy.

I sat and watched as the kids performed their big finale number. They were supposed to all sway in unison, but they didn’t quite achieve it, so they ended up bumping into each other periodically. The effect was more like drunken lurching, but they didn’t seem to care. They continued to sing their hearts out, and sway in time to their own inner music. As I watched, it occurred to me that a life of passion requires a balance. Sometimes, we need to work with others and do our best to synchronize our efforts. Sometimes, we need to do our own thing without apology. The real secret to life, I suspect, is knowing when to do which.

I don’t think there’s a single answer that’s right for everyone, in terms of when to cooperate and when to follow your own heart. But for many adults, the reality is that we haven’t followed our own hearts in some time. If this is where you are, then why not follow the example set by elementary school performers? Sing your own song, without apology. Spend a little less time blending, and a little more time doing what pleases you. In the process, maybe you’ll find your own perfect balance.

Tagged With: Christmas, Crafting my Life, Navel Gazing, Seasons

Wherefore Art Thou, Christmas Tree?

Amber on December 5, 2011 18 Comments

Every day my daughter Hannah asks when we can put the Christmas tree up. She has seen the familiar twinkling shape appearing in our neighbours’ windows, and noticed decorated trees in public spaces almost everywhere we go. The holiday season is here, and she wants to decorate.

When I was a kid, we didn’t put our tree up until a few days before Christmas. We had real, cut trees, and my mother was concerned that if we put it up too early, it would dry out and become a fire hazard. I don’t think the delay was tied only to worries about pine needles falling on the floor, though. Traditionally, trees were not put up until Christmas Eve. The Christmas tree arrived at the last minute for most of its history, and we were just carrying on that tradition.

Christmas past – my family room does not look like this right now.

It seems to me, however, that Christmas trees start popping up earlier every year. We’ve started taking note of occasions like Black Friday in Canada, which has created a new kick-off to the holiday season. Instead of waiting until December is in full swing, Christmas arrives in late November, and sticks around until after New Year’s. Thanks to artificial trees, the decorations can arrive early as well. It’s now common for people to put up their tree a full month or more before Christmas Day, which has led my daughter to ask why I don’t.

I love Christmas, I really do. It’s my most favourite holiday. I love Christmas music and Christmas parties and Christmas cookies and – yes – I love Christmas trees. There’s a magic in Christmas that never fails to reel me in. And yet, I’m resistant to putting up the tree too early. We have an artificial tree now, so there’s really no reason for me to hold off, other than pure obstinacy. And yet, in spite of the fact that I could put the tree up, I remain resolute in my refusal even as my kids plead with me to please, please, pretty please put the tree up today.

This is what Hannah would like to see right now, but this photo is from 2008.

I’ve been asking myself why I’m so set on keeping the tree in its box for now. What is it, exactly, that leads me to dig in my heels? I think that part of it is just pure laziness. I know that eventually I’ll have to clean out the family room and rearrange the furniture and untangle the lights and all of that stuff, but I don’t particularly want to do it today. But an even bigger part is that I don’t want to rush things. I want to spend a little time in preparation and anticipation, rather than rushing headlong into the main event.

With each passing year, time flies by more quickly for me. When I speak to people who are much older than I am, I hear that this only continues. Everything is happening too fast already – I don’t need to rush ahead. I can take my time, and leave the tree in the crawl space until I’m ready. In the meantime, we’ll work our way through the advent calendar and bake cookies and take our time as we amble towards Christmas Day. Eventually, we’ll put up our tree, and before I know it the whole thing will be over and it will be back to real life in 2012. For now, I’ll enjoy the journey, and drag my heels for just a little bit longer.

When do you put up your Christmas tree? Would you agree that trees seem to go up earlier now than they did in decades past? And do you have a real tree, or a fake tree? I’d love to hear!

Tagged With: Christmas, Navel Gazing, Seasons

Sneaky, Sneaky Ornaments

Amber on January 7, 2011 18 Comments

Every year, I decorate for Christmas. I festoon my tree with dozens upon dozens of ornaments. I place a few figurines around the house. I put out the Christmas towels and the Christmas cushions. I make careful note of where everything is, so that I can repeat the process in reverse a few weeks later.

Then, my children and my cat have their way with the Christmas decor. They throw everything around the house. Ornaments end up three rooms away from where they started, underneath a dresser. They end up wedged between couch cushions and in the box with the Barbies and somewhere in the craft supplies. I try to replace them as I find them, but it’s futile. I am outnumbered by small creatures with no respect for order.

Finally, the day comes to box up all the Christmas things and put them away. I put on my most diligent face, and search the house high and low. I track down every last trace of Christmas, put it in the container that will hold it for the next 11 months, and put it all in the crawlspace under the house. Then I pat myself on the back for a job well done.

Approximately 17 minutes later, the smug smile is wiped off my face. Because there, on the bookshelf, is an ornament. I looked on that bookshelf, how did I miss it? This is so, so aggravating!

Ornament hook I found hiding in the living room. Which is not the room the tree was in, incidentally.

I don’t race back under the house to put it away. Because I have learned through years of hard experience that this stray ornament has friends. I may not know where they are right now, but there are other bits of holiday decor lurking in my house. So I put the ornament someplace where I will remember it, and I bide my time.

Soon enough, an ornament hook shows up, followed by another ornament and a figurine that Hannah was playing with. I put them all in the same place until I am satisfied that I have uncovered all of the strays.

Hannah found this ornament hiding in the couch

This is where I start to drag my feet. I don’t really like going under the house. It’s dark and musty and I have to move a bunch of stuff out of the way to access it. I’ll totally put the stray ornaments away … tomorrow. Yeah, that’s it! Tomorrow.

Of course, tomorrow never comes. This is how we end up using Christmas towels year-round, and why we always have a few ornament hooks on our mantel. I could just throw them out, but they’re still good and I don’t want to add extra plastic to the landfill if I can avoid it. So I resolve to clear it out soon, and go on about my life. And, eventually, it’s November 30th and I might as well just hold tight until it’s time to decorate again. My procrastination has been rewarded.

I guess that’s the lesson here. You could be diligent, or you could just wait for Christmas to come again, and allow laziness to prevail. Why not go with laziness?

So, now, I’d like to hear how it goes at your house. What do you do with those ornaments that pop up a week after you’ve taken down the tree and stored all of your holiday stuff? Or do you have some super system to avoid the stray ornaments? I’d love to hear!

Tagged With: Christmas, Navel Gazing

What I Learned in December 2010

Amber on January 3, 2011 12 Comments

Monthly reviews are my favourite tradition. Here’s how it works – every month I come up with some things I learned, and not always the easy way. Then, I ask you all to join in with some recent revelations of your own. And we all learn and grow and what-not. Or at least share a laugh at our own expense, because some of these lessons are both hard-fought and funny. Sound good?

So, without further ado, here are some things that I learned in December.

Things I learned in December

1. I was happy to find out that my 2-year-old loves Santa, and was overjoyed to sit on his knee.

That’s Jacob’s excited face, in case you couldn’t tell

2. I opened registration for Crafting my Life, and felt immense joy when people actually signed up. Hooray!

3. I did a closet inventory and found that my 5-year-old Hannah had 18 dresses, and I had 3. One of which didn’t fit. Luckily, I found a great, versatile new dress and leveled the playing field a little.

Me and my new dress (over top a purple shirt)

4. When I came out as anti-Christmas penguin (because penguins are Antarctic animals, and Santa lives in the Arctic) I discovered that no one has neutral feelings on these festive, flightless birds. And I have the heated Facebook thread to prove it.

5. I won tickets to One of a Kind Show Vancouver (thanks Annemarie!) and learned the joy of spending the day downtown with a mom friend and no kids. The show is where I found my new dress.

Me and Michelle outside One of a Kind Vancouver

Me and my friend hanging out downtown

6. I experienced my first episode with vomitously ill children. To no one’s surprise, I did not enjoy it.

7. I had my radio debut on a local university campus station, talking about local arts and media. It was so much fun!

Nothing says ‘campus radio’ like waiting on a couch that is far older than you are

8. I got to watch Jacob take his first turn on skates. He fell a lot, but he was really into it. And Hannah really enjoyed the push bar.

The kids waiting for Jon to return with their rental skates

9. While doing the annual tour with my family, I learned that I’d grossly underestimated how many lights can festoon a single property.

There’s no way to capture the complete light coverage of this home

10. I experienced my first elementary school Christmas concert, and I really enjoyed it, to my own surprise.

Hannah all dressed up for her school concert

Hannah all dressed up for the concert

What about you? What did you learn in December? Please share! And read some of these fabulous posts to see what other people learned in December, or add your own:

Tagged With: Christmas, Monthly Review, Navel Gazing

The Upsides and Downsides of Taking a Break

Amber on December 27, 2010 20 Comments

Look at me, taking a break from my break and posting on a Monday afternoon. I am wild, I tell you. WILD! Maybe later I will rip some tags off some cushions. Or maybe I won’t. I’m not going to say for sure either way, because giving away my next move would not be wild at all. It would also not be in the spirit of non-obligation that I’m trying to establish for myself right now.

I can decide about the cushions in the moment. I don’t need a plan or a schedule or anything like that.

Yesterday we took an impromptu trip to the aquarium. Impromptu trips are very much in the spirit of non-obligation.

I’ve given myself freedom from my usual routine over Christmas, and I mostly like it. Routine can be good, but it can also become obligation very quickly. It doesn’t take long for, “I usually publish six blog posts a week,” to turn into, “I must, on pain of death (or at least extreme and embarrassing flatulence), publish a blog post every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 6:00am Pacific on the dot.” And then, after a while, you forget what the point of the routine was, but you keep doing it, because it’s just what you do.

Stepping back has given me the breathing room to notice and enjoy things, like this 60-year-old ornament on my tree

The first couple of days of my little vacation were good. I read a fabulous book. I knitted. I watched a movie with my husband. When I thought to myself that I should do something, I let it go and decided it could wait. It was great. On Christmas Day in the afternoon I found myself sitting with Jacob on my lap. He was wearing nothing but a hockey helmet, and he practiced his ‘writing’ in my notebook. I hugged him and smelled him and thought, “This, right here, is a perfect moment.”

Jacob’s “writing”

I haven’t been entirely idle, of course. There was merry-making and eating and visiting family. There was staying up late to make Christmas happen. And there were cookies of all kinds. I enjoyed it immensely – until it all became too much.

I reached that point where I was living on chocolate, and playing video games, and staying up too late because I didn’t have to conform to any routine and actually go to bed. And it didn’t feel good. It felt decidedly not good, in fact. It reached the point of excess where I just wanted a break from all the break-taking.

Jacob and his grandpa play hockey

Jacob, every my eager-to-please child, came down with a bug today that saw him spending most of the morning in a vomitous state. Not fun, and not at all break-like. As I write this now, he’s feeling a little better, keeping his food down, and watching Toy Story 3. Hannah is visiting her grandparents, and I am glad to be back in this chair writing. Putting some words up there and letting them all play and assemble and re-assemble themselves in my brain and on my computer screen.

Jon and me on Christmas Eve

It turns out that writing is what I do. Maybe I don’t have to always do it in the same way, on the same schedule. Maybe I can switch things up and around and it will still be good. But giving into sloth and not doing it at all doesn’t make me happy. It’s important to know that, I think. To understand where the line is between finding room to breathe and feeling like I’m at loose ends so I just eat more chocolate and play more video games.

Hannah with the pentatonic kinder lyre I stayed up late building

I’ve learned a few things this holiday season. I’ve learned that too much of a good thing is too much. I’ve learned that if your kid wants a pentatonic kinder lyre, it’s worth spending the extra $30 and getting it pre-assembled. I’ve experienced my first truly pukey kid, and discovered it is just as icky as you would imagine. And I’ve found that I don’t really need to take a break from writing, because writing is my break. These are all good things to know.

What about you? Where is your line between a nice breather and too much lying about? And what was your Christmas been like? I’d love to hear!

Tagged With: Christmas, Navel Gazing

Holy Night

Amber on December 24, 2010 14 Comments

It’s Christmas Eve. Frantic last-minute purchases are being made. Cookies are being decorated. Holiday meals are being cooked. Wine is being consumed. Children are writing notes to leave out with a plate of treats for Santa.

I am doing my best to soak up the holiday. I am striving to look beneath the surface and the busy-ness, to find where Christmas actually is. That quiet, that beauty, that wonder, that mystery. It’s there if I look for it. The kernel of holiness in the midst of the consumer craze.

Me, Christmas 2007

As an adult, it’s easy to forget about this peace and beauty. Christmas can become one big carnival of stress and obligation. We’re trying to so hard to make Christmas that we can forget to feel it and live it. It took a holiday-related breakdown of my own, but this year I’ve managed to slow down. I’m allowing myself to dwell in the wonder, even as I struggle to assemble a pentatonic kinder lyre.

Jacob supervising gingerbread house construction

Jacob, Christmas 2008

I suppose that it comes down to acknowledging that I am only one person, and I can only do so much. I’m OK with that. In the midst of the incredible hairiness that is my life right now, I’m becoming more and more OK with that all the time. I suspect that maybe this is what these busy times are here to show us. That we can’t do it all, and more to the point, we don’t have to. That we need to lay aside the obligations and marketing messages and horrible traffic, and find the part that’s Good and Right. It’s there, if we look for it.

Hannah, Christmas 2005

I am not going to keep up my regular posting schedule over the next week. I am letting go, just a little. Just enough. Hopefully, when I do, I’ll find what I was looking for. Permission to just be, instead of constantly needing to do.

If you celebrate, let me wish you a very merry Christmas. I hope that you are able to find your own moments of peace and wonder in the midst of your holiday-ing. Joy to the world – and to us!

Tagged With: Christmas, Navel Gazing

Suspenders

Amber on December 14, 2010 21 Comments

Yesterday I finished my Christmas shopping. Hooray for that! I was waiting in line to make one of my final purchases at that Canadian shopping institution, The Bay, when a woman caught my eye. I didn’t have my children with me, so I had the mental energy to actually notice her. I could see that it was taking her a long time to make it from her spot at the front of the line to the next available cashier. She was pushing a walker, filled with the day’s purchases. I don’t know how old she was, but if I were to guess I would say at least 80.

She laid her items on the counter in front of the cashier. The two women chatted as the cashier rang up the purchase – two pairs of suspenders. Christmas suspenders for her husband, I thought. I built a whole backstory in my mind. They’ve been married for 57 years, and every Christmas she buys him suspenders. A small gift, but a thoughtful gift. He’s come to expect them. Maybe even anticipate them. By late November, his old suspenders are showing their age. But he doesn’t worry, because soon enough his supplies will be replenished.

I think you can find the meaning of life in Christmas suspenders, if you look hard enough. When viewed from the outside, it seems like a small thing. She always buys him suspenders. But start adding the little things up. He always makes her morning cup of tea. They can never agree on which restaurant to eat at. They each have their own side of the bed. On their anniversary, they always have the same chicken they ate on their wedding night. They read the paper together on Sunday mornings. All the little things that make a marriage, like small pieces of a much larger puzzle.

Casual routines spring up in a relationship, often without our notice. I certainly don’t carefully consider each interaction with Jon. We’re approaching 20 years together, and much of our life together at this point is just convention. Who knows why I sleep on the right side of the bed? I just do. Who knows why all of our towels are yellow? They just are. But sometimes, when you think about it hard enough, you remember. You remember that the one thing your fiance wanted to register for was fluffy yellow towels. You remember the way you naturally claimed ‘your side’ of the bed. You see the mosaic of a life in the little bits of a day.

It’s true that convention by any other name is a rut. Perhaps the Christmas suspenders are a symbol of a loss of creativity and connection. Perhaps, after 57 years of suspenders, her husband wishes she would get him anything else. Routine can feel comforting, like a warm bathrobe, or confining, like a straitjacket. And two people may not agree on whether this routine is well-loved or worn-out. But even that is part of a relationship. Another brick in the wall that you build together.

I wonder where I will be, 50 years from now. Will I have started buying Jon Christmas suspenders? I doubt it, never having seen Jon wear suspenders even once, unless they came with a rental suit. But as I think about it, I can guess what I might still be buying. The Christmas magazine. The Christmas pens. The Christmas book. We won’t give it a second thought. It will just be part of our life and our marriage. Not the flashy, glamourous, exciting part. But the part that happens day in and day out, and lets us know that we are together. Still together, after all these years.

Do you ever make up stories about random strangers you encounter? And do you have something that you buy your partner every holiday season? I’d love to hear!