Christmas 3: The Hollemans

I arrived, 

and we simply hung out.

Heather and I talked,

 the Christmas music played.

When it was time,

 we loaded up our plates.

We sat around the table,

we talked, we laughed.

Then, there were presents,

in which we were so invested,
I have no pictures to prove they happened.

But soon enough,

 dessert.

And then,

we curled up in the dark basement,

 for a Christmas movie.

And when that one was over,

we moved upstairs,

 for another,

in the glow of the tree

 in the company of the cats,

in the company of each other.

Christmas 2: The Ladies

[Breakfast, in the morning.]

 [So excited!]

 [We're not sure.]

[There were gifts.]

 [She made this!]

[Scrabble, the old kind, and she's happy.]

A beautiful way to start a day.

Christmas 1: The Rebarchaks

 [Christmas omelets]

 [I've been hearing about this since the summer...]

[Surprise!]

[And, mustard.] 

[Tradition: They leave the room, 

so I can hide their Christmas pickle,

somewhere on their tree...]

 [Popcorn]

 [Our little local theatre]

 [A classic.]

 [Pretending these are our Christmas streets...]

[Big Screen = Teary.]

These dearests have my back,

for sure.

Advent 8: The many beautiful moments

It's the sweet older lady, taking my face in her hands upon meeting me, kissing my cheek and declaring to all around us 

"Oh, what a beautiful girl!"

It's friends curled in my chair with a cocktail, a cup of tea,

cookies laid out between us, talking about all that is love and life;

it's the Wednesday Night girls huddled together in my cottage, 

sharing together warm memories and steaming bowls of jambalaya.

It's the woman who works the post office seeing me in the long long line and going at once to retrieve my packages, 

because she knows me, and knows which box is mine.

It's the unexpected phone call from the brother I'll soon see,

and the gift of discovering the other brother's family will make it to our Christmas after all.

It's brunch with a table-load of friends,

the easy laughter and comfortable being together

complete with jazz combo Christmas tunes

played just by our side.

It's the running out to stores with dear friend and favorite children,

it's the sitting at their counter as they make their Christmas treats.

 It's Christmas events with photo booths and trips to the Amish market to gather together supplies,

it's luncheons with the dear hearts who work with me, 

our laughter and blessing.

It's gathering together to celebrate the friend soon leaving, it's curling up in my chair with wine and Peace.

It's Christmas cards that shower glitter over my desk 

and love over my heart.

It's the thoughtful gifts born out of conversations of the heart,

the recognizing the fruit of a year well spent

and the making of the music that says Christmas time is here.

It's praying over the loved ones as I make their Christmas treats,  

the creating of the presents

 and the wrapping of the gifts.

It's the gathering together with friends from many areas of my life,

gustily singing carol after carol with my cracking-from-a-cold voice.

These are the beautiful moments,

the many of them.

Advent 7: Let there be [Piano Party] Joy

Advent 6: To be the Maker

This weekend there will be piano babies and their families filling every possible spot in my sweet cottage, gathered for a piano party.

I promised there would be cookies, so last night I set to work.

I made the dough and I chilled it.

I got out the rolling pin and the flour and the cookie cutter and the mat.

I wrapped myself in my apron, rolled up my sleeves, and began to roll that dark cocoa ginger dough across my beautifully floured surface, whistling a merry tune. 

I was not far in when I remembered: I hate rolling out dough. It never works! It gets stuck on the rolling pin, and you have to sling flour everywhere and the poor ginger snowman loses an arm despite all your efforts. I also right quickly remembered that the feeling of flour on my hands makes me want to fall to the floor in despair. I hate the feeling of flour on my hands. It is the worst.

I was not far in when I noticed: This is not going well.

But cookies I promised and cookies there must be. So, I cast the rolling pin to the wayside and made a new plan. I took that dough in my hands and rolled it around until it was soft. I laid it on the mat and I prodded with the heel of my hand and I pushed and pulled with fingers extending every which way. I got that dough to flatten out, and I cut out beautiful little snowmen, and lined them up on my pan.

In a matter of moments, things turned around.

And I couldn't help but think of the ways that I continually let life roll me over, let it stick to me and rip off my limbs and strip my very soul. I couldn't help but think of how much safer it is when I allow Him to take me in His hands and warm me up. I usually don't like His prodding and His pulling but isn't it true and haven't I seen that His result is always better than mine, that when I stop fighting, just let Him have His way, it is the moment that Life is born in me? And maybe sometimes I look a little lumpy, but maybe that's just His finger prints, His way of saying: 

I made this lumpy ginger snow man, and let there be no doubt--

she belongs to Me.

Woe to those who quarrel with their Maker, 

those who are nothing but potsherds 

among the potsherds on the ground. 

Does the clay say to the potter, 

'What are you making?' 

Does your work say, 

'The potter has no hands'?

[Isaiah 45:9]